


Power of the Light

by ThatDarnKat



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 72,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDarnKat/pseuds/ThatDarnKat
Summary: The adventures in life and love of a Dunmer girl orphaned young who grows into a dangerous woman. Contains some graphic sex.
Kudos: 2





	Power of the Light

Evenstar

Prologue

Evenstar watched the boy run away. His fat little legs churned and his leather shoes made slapping sounds on the sand as he darted up the beach. Within ten seconds he had disappeared between the buildings. That was it then, he was gone. She might have been able to catch him if he had run the opposite direction, away from town. But he was safe from her in the bustle of Vivec City. Inside the city walls she would be seen as nothing but a dirty street urchin, and even if she were to chase him down and knock him flat, there was no one who would believe it was he who had stolen the bread from her, and not the reverse. Especially since she had stolen the bread initially, from a stall in the market. She didn’t think she’d been seen by the baker today, but he’d caught her in the past and would be happy to turn her in as a thief.

Her stomach contracted. Another night hungry then. Hunger was her constant companion now. How long had it been since she had been full? That was a question she knew the answer to, though there weren’t many of them anymore. Two months. Two months of running, scraping, fighting, shivering, starving. Two months since she’d become homeless; a nobody, a nothing.

She turned away from town and made her way around the point and under the docks. Maybe Cracks-the-Claws would take pity on her and give her a bit of crab soup. 

“Hear what the tide washes up,” growled the Argonian, as she approached. 

“That fat little Redoran boy stole my dinner!” she told him, attempting to sound pathetic.

Cracks hissed at her.

“The girl should learn to defend herself.”

“The girl did! I hit him in the eye! I hope it turns black!”

She sat down in the sand next to him.

“But he’s bigger than me. He pushed me down and grabbed it.”

Cracks shrugged his shoulders. “The girl must be quicker. Fiercer.”

“I hadn’t even taken a bite yet. He doesn’t need it! He can eat all the bread he wants in his own kitchen. I hate him.”

“The strong prey on the weak. This is the way of the world. You do not wish to be the prey? Then be the hunter.”

“I can’t hunt him. I’m only ten. The guards will catch me.”

He hissed again.

“A waste of time to hunt that one. Busy yourself hunting me some crabs and I will fill your belly tonight.”

“How many?” she asked eagerly, jumping up.

“Four. But they must be big ones.”

She ran down the beach.

She brought back five, and they were all big. Cracks hissed in approval as he threw them whole into the boiling water. Then he sang as they waited for them to cook. Evenstar liked his songs. They were songs of the marsh, of his homeland, which he said was much different than her harsh home of rocks and ash. His home was noisy he said, filled night and day with the sound of insect chatter. He said the noise was what he missed the most. That was why he lived under the docks. He liked to listen to the water, and the shouts of the dockworkers. When Cracks had been younger, he had worked on the docks. Now he was old, and almost blind. His eyes were white and his scales gray. He could not hunt crabs as well anymore. But he could still cook them. In the two months since she had been homeless, he was the only one who had shown her any kindness.

When he handed her the bowl at last, she was so hungry that she slurped half of it down immediately and scalded her mouth.

“Patience,” Cracks told her. “So few ever learn it. But those who can will win everything in the end.”

“What good will patience do me? Patience won’t bring Papa back. Or make me less hungry. Or keep that fat-bottomed boy away from me.”

“Patience will see you to a time when your father’s loss hurts less. It will give you the stillness to catch a crab to eat. And it will watch you grow to outsmart the fat boy.”

“Huh. You’re weird Cracks. But I like you anyway.”

He hissed. She thought it might be laughter.

They came in the night to arrest him.

The tramp of metal boots woke her. She was wrapped in every bit of clothing she had, wedged against the rock behind a dock piling. She heard them above her, on the dock, then down the ramp, and across the sand. Their noise was the sound of fear. 

She watched the flicker of the torch as they moved past her, City Guards in full kit. There were four of them. The voice of the leader rang out loud under the docks, echoing off the rock and wood.

“We have an arrest warrant for the Argonian, Cracks-The-Claws. Come peacefully and you will not be injured.”

She gasped and sat up. Cracks? Arrested?

“What’s he done?” she shouted angrily, then wished she hadn’t. The leader whirled back and moved closer to her, his torch stung her eyes.

“He’s a thief. He’s wanted for stealing. Do you know him? Where is he? And who are you?”

“No one,” she said boldly. “And he didn’t steal anything!” She was afraid of these big men in fancy armor. But she would not show it. “He’s blind! He can’t see to steal anything. Go bother someone else.”

“You!,” said the big man, the leader, and he made a grab for her. She twisted away and tried to run, but she tripped on all the fabric she was wrapped in and fell. They were on her in a second.

It didn’t even take two of them to subdue her. The leader made a gesture and one of the others lifted her quickly from the ground. She swung and kicked at him, but she succeeded only in bashing her knuckles open on his armor. They laughed at her.

“Here’s a dock skeever if I ever saw one,” said the one who held her. She squirmed wildly, but he had a hold on her neck and she couldn’t break away.

The leader held his torch closer to her. She turned her head away from the light, but he grabbed her chin and turned it towards him.

A pretty one,” he murmured. “Is that why they want you?” Then, louder “She looks a bit more than a dockrat.” He pried her mouth open with his fingers, and she bit him.

He cuffed her, hard, casually. Her head knocked back against the man holding her and her eyes watered. 

“She has all her teeth at least. Unusual for dock riffraff. Bring her along, she’s wanted for something too.” She couldn’t see his expression, but his words made her struggle again. She was wanted? By who, him? No. She could not let these soldiers take her. 

“Let her go,” interrupted a voice. “I believe you are here for me, not a useless girl.”

The captain turned. His light fell upon Cracks, milky eyes unfocused, standing very still and erect.

“You’re Cracks-The-Claws? You’re wanted for stealing a platinum ring earlier today. If you can produce this stolen merchandise, it will go easier for you. Will you cooperate?”

“Ah. The ring. Alas, I’ve already fenced it I fear. And as for cooperation…” he suddenly folded, and rolled to the left, out of the firelight. The captain swore, swung the light, and danced sideways. The tip of Crack’s tail flashed in and out of the torchlight.

“Get him!” shouted the captain.

The remaining two soldiers scrambled towards Cracks.

“Go!” the Captain barked. “Grab the lizard!”

The soldier holding her released her, shoving her away and wheeling around to search for Cracks.

“Leave him alone!” she shouted at them. “He didn’t do it!”

“Idiot! Don’t let her go!” shouted the Captain, and he made a grab for her. This time she twisted away, dancing out of his reach.

“Run, girl!” she heard from out of the darkness to her right. The soldiers rushed past her immediately towards the sound, torchlight bounced off of pilings, clumps of seaweed, and pieces of driftwood. Crazy shadows seemed to leap forward and shrink back as the Captain thrust the torch first one way, then another.

“Cracks? No! What are you doing? Tell them you didn’t do it!

“He didn’t! He didn’t do it! He was here all afternoon, cooking crab soup! Listen to me, he’s blind! He couldn’t steal a ring, he couldn’t!” The Captain had ceased trying to grab her, but he clearly intended to try again if she tried to make a run for it. 

Round and round in the darkness went the chase. Cracks was old, but agile. The darkness helped, not hindered him; while the soldiers had to rely on their eyes, Cracks knew every inch of the ground by his other senses. Stil, there were four of them, and she knew in the pit of her stomach that he could not elude them forever. She should run, while she could, but she couldn’t quite make herself. Maybe this would still turn out alright? 

Abruptly, it was over. Two soldiers had Cracks-The-Claws held tightly between them. They shook him roughly. She realized she was crying. Soon they would grab her too. This was not turning out alright. The captain with the torch shone it close to Crack’s face.

This was the last chance, she had to try again, they had to understand. Why wouldn’t they understand? 

“See?” she begged, “see his eyes? You can tell! He didn’t do it. You can let him go now.” The captain looked over at her, standing at the edge of the torchlight, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Grab her,” he said matter-of-factly to the last soldier.

“No,” she whispered. 

Cracks turned his head towards her.

“Run, girl!” he told her. 

“No!” she said again, but the man was moving towards her, and in seconds he would be on her.

“Run! Star, now!” Cracks shouted. The captain punched a fist into the Argonian’s stomach and he doubled over, retching.

For one more instant she stood. The injustice was choking her. They could see, they could see! The old man was blind! He hadn’t done it. They knew he hadn’t done it. And her! They would take her too, for no reason. Because someone wanted her? The Captain? A little lost girl, hungry and alone, and they would take her and throw her into the jail. Or worse. Far worse. Oh, why? Why? The strong prey on the weak, he had said. It was true. And there was no fighting it.

Papa, she thought. Why?

She ran. She turned away and slid sideways into the darkness. Her bare feet pounded up the sand. She felt shells and small crabs crunch under her feet as she flew forward. She was fast, had always been fast. But the man was tall, with long legs. She could feel him gaining on her, his breath growing louder as he closed the distance between them.

She wanted to be quiet, but she was scared, so scared, and the fear made her throat close. With every breath she could hear herself whimper, every exhalation a plea. Days of hunger weakened her. His footsteps were right behind her. The moons were too bright. She couldn’t hide, she couldn’t outrun him, there was no one to help her. 

Later, years later, she would think it was that moment when it fell away. Her father had died and left her alone, taking most of her childhood illusions with him onto the pyre where they had put his body while she stood alone and watched him burn. But she had retained a few perhaps, a belief in the decency of the world, of other people. A belief that right would triumph in the end, that bad things would always end and good people would be recognized as such, maybe even rewarded for their goodness.

Wrong. That was all wrong. Cracks was right. The strong preyed on the weak. To survive she must be one of the strong. That was the only truth.

She dived sideways. They had made it to the outskirts of town, and she rolled behind a fishmonger’s shack. He thundered past her with his momentum, stopped and turned back. He had seen where she went. There was no hiding. But there was maybe one chance at surprise. He thought her helpless, a wretched dockrat. She would show him he was wrong.

Gasping, hands shaking, she fumbled in her leggings for the knife. She’d carried it with her these past two months, never using it except to skin the odd fish she stole. It was thin, but sharp. And long. It would have to be enough. She crouched next to the corner, tight up against the wall. She would have one chance at this. One chance only. She held it with both her hands.

She heard him come closer, his heavy steps slow but sure. 

“No use hiding, girl. The Captain wants you, the Captain will have you. Don’t myself see much use in a mangy little thing like you, but that doesn’t matter. Come on out and save me some trouble. Faster I catch you, faster I’m drinking a flin back at the barracks.”

She held still. Silent. One chance. Patience. 

He rounded the corner. Up she sprang, out of the shadows, knife steady in her hand. No use wondering if she could do it, it was already done. Luck was with her, or an instinct she hadn’t known she possessed. Her aim was perfect. The blade slid into his eye. He dropped like a stone, dead in an instant. He made a sighing noise as he fell and died, she noticed it almost passively. Her mind seemed to have begun working differently, like it belonged to someone else. The someone else pulled the knife out, wiped it on his cloak, and stuck it back in her leggings. Then the someone quickly and methodically searched him. The someone pocketed his few coins, the couple odds and ends that might be worth something. The someone considered, then dismissed the idea of taking his sword. It was large, no weapon for a child, and it might draw questions if she tried to sell it. The someone struggled to drag his body behind the shack so that it was hidden. This was difficult, he was heavy, tall and fully armored. But the someone who controlled her now knew that this was important. She needed to be well away before he was found.

Morning dawned on a scene of confusion down at the docks. A guard found stabbed through the eye, his body hidden. No footprints, except for his own. No weapon. No sign of an attacker found. Nor any trace of the little girl he’d been chasing. No point in looking for her anyway, she couldn’t have had anything to do with this, a wretched thing like her. They didn’t know, didn’t understand. That little girl was gone anyway, long gone.

Indeed, it was a completely different girl that stood silent at the back of the crowd three days later while an old Argonian with white eyes was sentenced to death for stealing. Expression hard, this girl watched as the strong preyed on the weak. What could be done? Perhaps much.

Patience.

Chapter One

Evenstar rolled from the bed and stood up, stretching. Telandron raised his head and looked at her.

“Come back,” he said. “Why are you getting up?” 

He reached his hand out towards her. She ignored it, and him.

She walked, naked, to the corner, where she kept a jug of wine. Pouring herself a cupful, she drank it in one go, like water. When it was empty, she poured another.

“Star? What are you doing?”

She drank the second cup, just as fast. Then she set the cup down, grabbed her armor and began buckling it on. The torch on the wall sputtered. She would need to fetch a new one.

She heard Telandron sigh from the bed. Eventually he sat up, threw the sheet back and stood. She looked back at him as he stood yawning and scratching his beard. It was a bit thin, uneven: a first beard. His mustache was hardly more than a suggestion of darkness on his upper lip. His long dark hair hung in his face, making him look even younger. How old was he, she wondered. He couldn’t have been any older than her, nineteen, twenty at most. She shrugged off the thought. He was not her best, but he was far from her worst. At least he was a thoughtful lover, if not the most skilled. She wondered if it had been his first time. He had not said so, but why would he?

“Here,” she said, handing him his breeches. He took them and began slowly pulling them on.

“It’s the middle of the night. Are you going somewhere?” he asked. He sounded a little put out, which irritated her. It was never enough. Whatever you gave, people wanted more. And no matter how clear she was in the beginning, precious few seemed to remember it at the end.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, pouting her lip. “Did you want to have a little snuggle before I cooked you a meal and washed your clothes for you?”

“What? I don’t want you to wash my clothes.”

“Good, cause I’m not your mommy.”

“I just thought…”

“I’m not your girlfriend either.”

He huffed at her, pulling his mouth back in a sneer.

“You’re a cold one, is what you are.”

She let this wash over her. It was not the first time she had heard it.

“I didn’t invite you back here so that we could fall in love,” she told him flatly. “Midnight is when I go to work. And time is money. You’re wasting both right now.”

Just go, she silently urged him. Why was this so often the difficult part? For a second she thought he would go. He pulled on his boots and picked up his shirt without speaking again. She was about to relax, but as he began walking away he stopped and turned.

“So that’s it then?” he asked, spreading his arms out.

Her hackles rose again, at once. “Yes. Was it not enough? It seemed like enough.”

“I guess it was,” he said, clearly facetious. He turned away and began walking, but he made sure she could hear the last part, “if you like screwing an ice cube.”

She took three silent, running steps, and leaped. She had her arm around his neck, his head twisted sideways and her dagger pressing into the side of his throat within two heartbeats.

“Let me explain something, little doggy. When a woman invites you to come back to her room, no strings, shows you a very pleasant time, then politely suggests that you go so that she can earn a living, you say “thanks for the good times,” and leave. You don’t insult her and try to swagger out like a big man. Especially when you aren’t a big man.” She let the knife twist a little and a bead of blood appeared, growing bigger and bigger until it trickled down under his collar. He remained motionless and silent. Good, at least he could learn.

After a moment she released him and tucked the dagger away.

She watched him swallow, raise a hand to his neck, and take it away to look at the blood smeared across his fingers.

Would he be foolish enough to say something else? She hoped not. Plenty of people had seen them leave the bar together. It would be awkward if she had to maim him, or even worse, kill him. 

Fortunately, neither was necessary. After staring at his hand incredulously, he wiped the blood on his breeches and began to hurry away.

“Oh, Telandron? Don’t go bragging about tonight, either. I keep a sharp edge on my dagger, as you can see.”

With that she turned away from him, listening to his quick footsteps and the slam of the door with a smile. She couldn’t care less if he bragged. But he didn’t deserve the satisfaction.

Turning to find her satchel, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and wandered closer to examine herself.

The mirror was cracked, cloudy, and small. In the torchlight her own face seemed to flicker. Young, but she looked older than her age. Piercing dark eyes, angular cheekbones, a wide, sensuous mouth, definitely her best feature. It was a face more easily described as arresting than lovely. Small, pointed ears, vivid red hair she wore in long braids down her back, a long, elegant neck. No, she was not a great beauty, but she would do. And she did do; she never had a problem finding company when she wanted it. Not that she often did. And tonight reminded her why. She ran a finger across a blue mark on her neck; the foolish puppy had kissed her too hard. Though not hard enough in other places, she thought wryly. Why were some things so hard? She must remember that next time she looked at a young man, she thought. Not only were the older men often better lovers, they seemed to need less after as well, and to accept the termination of things with equanimity as opposed to anger. Except for Ghorzak, she reminded herself. The oldest man she had ever been with, he had been one of the most difficult to distance herself from. Of course, she reflected, he was an orc. They were just...different.

Impatient, as always, with doubts and second thoughts, she grabbed the satchel and left the room. Men were men and she could leave them as easily as take them. It had always been that way.

Chapter Two

People had always told her she walked with a swagger. 

“Like you fucking own the place,” Cecile told her, “and the other place too. I wish I had those legs, they go on for days. It’s hard to look, how you say...boss, to own the place, when your legs are as short as mine.”

“They go with the rest of you,” Evenstar shrugged. Cici’s legs were phenomenal, anyway.

They were sitting in a tavern in Anvil. It was as hot as a lava cave outdoors and twice as hot inside. Evenstar held the glass of ale up to her face to cool herself, but the glass was as warm as everything else and she succeeded only in wiping sweat onto it. She frowned.

“You’re so unsympathetic!” wailed Cecile. “You are cold, Evie.”

“I wish I was,” said Evenstar sourly.

“La,” said Cecile, dismissing her legs, and Evenstar’s temperature. “Forget that. Tell me what you have decided.”

Evenstar liked this new subject no better than the old one.

“I haven’t decided. I told you that yesterday.”

“That was yesterday, today is today. You must choose. Tell your best friend Cici what you are thinking. Maybe I can help, yes? Offer advice? Not that you will take it, I know.” 

Evenstar loved Cici’s Breton accent, and her inability to use contractions. She sighed.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I can’t make a decision. Everything about the offer sounds perfect, but something inside me keeps me from saying yes. It’s like a foreboding. That it’s a bad idea. But why would it be? The money is good, I like the people, at least, I like the one I’ve met. They’re so much more organized than we are. Good grief, the matron gave me and Fantain the same contract last week. I showed up at the house and nearly had a heart attack when she jumped out of the bushes at me. She was about an inch from knifing me.

“It would be nice to work for an outfit where that sort of thing doesn’t happen. And there’s no danger of getting in trouble with the authorities...”

“This is true!” interrupted Cici. “You would be working FOR the authorities.”

“Yeah. The whole thing is sanctioned by the damn Tribunal. Weird.”

“It is strange,” agreed Cici. “Murder for petty political reasons, approved of by living gods who then create laws against killing. Your people are hard to understand.”

She frowned and concentrated, making her eyes cross slightly. Evenstar smiled. Cici was endlessly adorable.

“But something is holding me back from saying yes. I have a funny feeling about it. An instinct. I want to listen to it, but I keep doubting whether it’s real. Maybe I’m just scared.”

“You?” said Cici? She looked incredulous. “You are never scared. And your instincts are never wrong. Well, maybe that time last year. The Imperial. That was...not good instinct.”

“No. Not good instinct. But very good reflexes.”

“Yes. No one can get a knife up faster than you. And who could guess that you would hide one there?”

“Not him, that’s for sure. I’d say he’ll know better next time, but…”

“There is no next time for him.”

“Nope.”

“But what shall you do, Evie? How will you choose? Have you prayed to your tribunal? Perhaps they will give you answers? What do you do, burn something to them I assume? Always with you dark elves there is burning.”

“We’re a hot-blooded people,” said Evenstar grimly. “And fuck his floating magnificence, Lord Vivec. The gods have never given me anything. All they’ve done is take. What’s the point in asking for their advice? They gave up caring about me when I was ten.”

Cici looked scandalized. Cecile, methodical, unemotional, and unhesitating killer that she was, was also deeply pious. She prayed to all eight divines daily, especially to Dibella, her patroness. Cici was considered a master in the art of love. How these things squared in her mind was something Evenstar did not bother trying to understand.

“How can you say this?” Cici demanded. “The gods have given you something incroyable, something I would kill for!”

“You’d kill for anything, including the pittance they call a salary over at the Sanctuary. But I’ll bite. What have the gods given me? I’d like to know.”

“Why, it is obvious Evie! A great gift. They gave you those legs!”

Chapter Three

The next afternoon found Evenstar under the dock in Anvil. Maybe it was a relic of her time as a child, but she felt comfortable here. It was also just good sense. It was cool and damp, below, and the sound of the water sloshing against and around the pilings was soothing. Plus she could be alone down here. Up above she heard the busy passings of sailors and shoppers and guards and drunks, but down here she was spared the task of talking with any of them. In her soul she would always be a dockrat. 

And a dockrat looked out for herself, above all. Evenstar had spent the past ten years doing it. She was experienced in making the right decisions for her own survival. So why was this one so hard to make? Morag Tong--the name fell with a thud in her mind. She was a killer, a remorseless assassin who slit throats for a living. But the Morag Tong scared her. And there was not much left in the world that did. Twenty years old and people told her she was as jaded and cold an elf as they’d ever known. But the Morag Tong made her nervous.

Maybe it was because she was Dunmer. She had grown up surrounded by the whispers about Morrowind’s lawless law. The secretive band of killers who operated with the approval of the Tribunal. And they lived out in the open; there was no way to know. Anyone could be a member, anyone could be their next target.

Or was it their purpose that made her skin crawl? It couldn’t be. She killed for a living right now, what was different? Something was, she felt it like an itch between her shoulder blades. Her mind turned it this way and that. The Dark Brotherhood (she seldom used that name, mostly just thought of it as them) killed for money, and were available to anyone who performed the black sacrament. The sacrament was not hard, but it was disgusting, and felt intimidating to many, so a person had to be quite serious to follow through on it. The Tong killed for money too, and was available to hire by anyone who had enough of it. The great houses had plenty, and seldom hesitated to use it. What kept their use of the Morag Tong in check wasn’t conscience, or lack of resources, it was fear of reprisal. If you killed one of theirs, it was only a matter of time until they killed one of yours--if they could figure out who you were. Sometimes houses would hire the Tong to kill someone they didn’t even care about, just to throw suspicion on another enemy house. Confusion, political machination, greed, retaliation; were these reasons any more or less noble than the garden variety hate, jealousy, and spite that motivated those who asked for Sithis’ help?

Yet sometimes she felt an understanding for the people who hired her to murder their greedy employer, or their cheating spouse, or their rich, aging parent, or their demanding lover. She did not care whether they were right or wrong. Nor did she care for Sithis and the ridiculous religious rigamarole that some members mouthed with boring repetition. She only knew that fortune favored the bold, that to the victor went the spoils, and that the weak were destined to be taken advantage of by the strong. Those fools who didn’t see it were only getting what they had coming. If her hand didn’t deliver the blow, someone else’s would. The people who performed the sacrament, who had the passion to try to shape the world to their vision, those were the people she respected. She did not like them, no. But she did not have to. They were the powerful because they were the do-ers. And she respected power.

So she killed for them. Well, she killed for money. But she did not mind doing their dirty work. Killing was not for everyone. Some were too squeamish for it, or perhaps physically unable, or they did not want the risk of being caught. But they were not morally opposed to it, no. They did not judge her, and she did not judge them. And when she met them, in the dark of night, in silent rooms and deserted alleys, when they handed her bags of clinking coins and pressed her with anxious whispers for confirmation of the deed, they did not meet her eyes. Always they looked down, or to the side. The very bravest might stare into her red eyes for just a moment before glancing quickly away. The truth was they were scared of her. It was her with the power in that moment. 

And in the moment of the kill. Always, she had the same feeling before she plunged the knife in; not pity, but revulsion--loathing even, for her victim. They were the weak. Fools who never saw their own death coming. They were powerless to see it, powerless to stop it. She held their life in her hands the same as if she held their beating heart. She could choose to save them, yes anytime she could choose that. Warn them to run, lie to her matron, to the buyer. Some would say that Sithis, or his dimwit of a listener would know. But that was wrong. Only she would know. But she never did this. Why should she? Why should she care for them? They did not care for her. They were fools, probably. And banal. Most people she met were. 

So why not take the same attitude to the Morag Tong, where her pay would be tenfold higher, and the assignments challenging, even to a person of her abilities. Unlike some of her colleagues, she did not love killing. She took no joy in it, except as a job well-done. But she had no problem with it either. She did not lie awake at night worried for the state of her soul. If she was a killer, should she not kill for the organization most likely to make her wealthy and powerful? It was only the smart choice. To be honest, she was more than flattered that she had drawn their attention, that they had reached out to her. She felt tempted by their notoriety, their prestige. 

And of course, there was him.

* * *

It had been a Dunmer named Lleran who approached her.

Tall, striking, not handsome, but arresting. Deep olive skin and gray eyes. Older than her, perhaps by fifteen years. He had the dark hair common to Dunmer, but he wore it pulled back into a knot, exposing his angular face, and long ears. He was clean shaven. His mouth was too large, like her own. Was it cruel, or sensuous? She could not decide. 

She’d been leaning up against a building, casually watching the marketplace while waiting for her mark. She was in Vivec City, her childhood home, but not a place she had visited often in the intervening years. Then suddenly, he was there, standing beside her. She had not seen or heard his approach. She was immediately set off-balance and made angry. She did not get snuck up upon. She was the one who snuck. He said nothing, just stood looking at her as if weighing her worth. One side of his mouth twisted. Was the fucker judging her? Finding her wanting?

She reached for her knife and brought it up. The movement was fast, so fast that most people wouldn’t have registered what it was until seconds after she had the blade pressed against their kidney. But he moved almost casually, like he had all the time in the world to knock her arm aside and seize her wrist with his other hand. He twisted. She struggled silently for a second, then dropped the knife. He released her immediately. They stood staring at each other, not speaking. She would not be the one to step backwards.

“That move needs work,” he said at last.

“Fuck you,” she snarled. 

“Perhaps later,” he told her affably. “I generally prefer women with more flesh on their bones, but I like your spirit.” He glanced down. “And your tits.”

“Touch them and die,” she warned him.

“Please,” he chuckled. “If I wanted to force myself upon you, there’s nothing you could do to stop me. I think we both just saw the truth of that.” He held up his hands in surrender as she bared her teeth at him. 

“Peace! Unwilling women hold no allure for me. Not that I meet many of them. Shall we begin at the beginning? I like to know names before I take a woman to bed, though...I suppose I’ve made exceptions.

“I’m Lleran. You are Evenstar I hope and assume?”

“How do you know my name?” she demanded.

“I was sent to find you. On behalf of an organization that has taken an interest in your...talents.” He shrugged. “Such as they are. I’ve certainly seen better. Though perhaps you have other assets.” He looked down at her breasts again.

She resisted the urge to draw her other dagger on him, she felt sure he would disarm her again, just as easily. She did not care to be humiliated a second time.

“What organization is this?” she asked him, without much curiosity. She was mostly wondering how to get away from him as quickly as possible. She did not like the feeling of being overmatched. 

“One that I’d prefer to discuss in private, perhaps over a bottle of fine wine? I have a bottle of Summerset Estate, the 575. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion...what do you think?”

If he had looked at her tits again she would have refused. But instead he bent down, picked up her knife, and handed it back to her, hilt first, looking into her eyes as he waited for her reply. His good manners surprised and confused her and she found herself nodding assent without meaning to. 

He offered his arm, which she refused with a dry laugh. He smiled in a way that made her think he would have been disappointed if she’d accepted. Instead, he turned and began walking into the city, not looking behind to check if she followed. 

She had thought he would lead her to a dingy room in some cellar or hovel, and she prepared herself to leave at that time. She was following him now, probably already a foolish choice. She would not compound her mistake by trailing him into a situation she could not escape from.

But instead he led her through the bustling city and out the other side, crossing the bridge and turning south into a clump of tall Chanterelle mushrooms. Two horses were tethered there. He didn’t offer her a leg up, and she didn’t ask. But she felt his eyes on her as she hauled herself upward and settled uneasily into the saddle. Evenstar was no horsewoman.

He made no comment, but she wondered if the pace he set was an acknowledgment of her apprehension. Moving at a brisk walk, he turned his horse north and led her away from town. They rode silently for a time, giving her the opportunity to think for the first time since he had appeared next to her. Why was she following him? Why had she said yes to this? Something about him challenged her; she had not wanted to appear scared. But this was becoming a matter too large for pride. She would stop now. Kick the horse and run away. Except...if the horse ran, she would probably fall. And he would catch her. But if she dismounted and tried to run, he could easily chase her down on his own horse, and still catch her. She was trapped now. She had no choice but to keep following him. Stupid, she chided herself. What had come over her? Was it just a magnetism about him? She had wanted his respect badly enough to make a very risky choice. She had thought herself too worldly wise for that sort of error. And it wasn’t that he was so good-looking…

She studied him from behind as they rode. He was tall, but solid. He wore a leather vest that probably had shoulder pieces that would buckle on, but for now his arms were bare. They were ropy with muscles. She watched them move under his skin as he switched his reigns to the other hand and reached an arm around behind him to grab a water flask. She found herself wishing that he did not have the vest on, that she could see his back.

She was immediately angry at herself. The man was dangerous. And employed by...who? What organization? Where was he leading her? Preparedness was her best defense now. If she was committed to following him, and she didn’t see that she had any other choice at the moment, then she needed to focus on answering these questions, not wondering what the muscles in his back looked like as he turned in the saddle and watched her scowl at him with a lazy smile on his lips.

But by the three...his mouth.

They rode for several hours. They did not take the road, but Evenstar knew her island and the further they went, the surer she was that their destination was Balmora. Balmora. That answered the biggest question then. She felt a strong unease. If she were being taken to Morag Tong headquarters...no. She would not go. He could chase her if he wished. She would run, fight, probably die. But she would not go. She pulled up on the reigns and the horse stopped short.

He must have heard the hoofbeats stop, for he reigned up immediately and turned back to look at her. Seeing her expression, he walked his horse back to where she had halted.

“You’ve figured it out then,” he said.

“Yes. And I’m not interested.”

“Are you sure? Even before you’ve heard my pitch?”

“Positive.”

“You understand the money we are talking, right?”

She hesitated.

He named a figure.

Her eyes widened. “You must be joking.”

“No one jokes about the Morag Tong.”

This was true. 

“Still positive?”

She swallowed, her mouth was dry.

“Yes. I’m not interested.”

“Even in the wine? I mentioned it’s the 575?”

She didn’t answer. She was trying to decide if he would force her. This man was such a dichotomy. Polite, but deadly. A gentille killer with lightning reflexes and a taste for fine wine. She almost felt that he might let her walk away. But maybe not.

“I’m not taking you to headquarters if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m taking you to my room, which is a very nice room, very clean, no dirty laundry on the floor, no bloodstained towels or skulls or what have you. Only some tasteful art, my impressive wine collection, and my Guar, Fang. Just kidding, her name is Buttercake. For her favorite mushrooms. She doesn’t bite. Oh, and of course, my bed. It’s enormous, very solid. Never creaks.”

She snorted.

“So what do you think? Shall I show it to you? You get the wine, the pleasure of my wit, and the roll in my sheets. All you have to do is listen to the pitch. I’ll even throw in a game of fetch with Buttercake. It’s an attractive deal, you have to admit.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. The corner of his mouth turned up, not a sneer she realized, just his lopsided smile.

“And I can leave whenever I want? No strings?”

“None. It’s purely informational, this meeting.”

“Can I leave right now?”

“Yes. If you like. But you’d be making a grievous error.”

He waited while she thought. 

“You won’t slit my throat on the way out if I say no?”

“Gods, that would be terribly rude.”

“Yeah, it would. But assassins aren’t known for their manners.”

“I’m more than an assassin,” he said quietly.

She watched him. He was looking at her quite levelly, his eye contact solid, barely even blinking. He nudged his horse forward so that their legs touched, though they faced opposite directions.

“I think that you are more than just an assassin too,” he told her.

“Is that why they sent you looking for me?” she asked him.

“It’s why I’m offering you the 575. I don’t serve that vintage to every hopeful they send me chasing.”

“Are you a recruiter?”

“No, I’m an assassin.”

“I thought you said you were more than just an assassin.”

“I’m the best you’ll ever meet.”

“Best killer?”

“Best killer, yes. Best at a lot of things. Best at talking dangerous women back to my room.”

She laughed.

“Are you sure?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Her mind was telling her to turn the horse and run, or at least walk quickly away. But she had not gotten where she was by listening only to her mind. Instinct was the number one tool in her line of work. And instinct had brought her this far, she realized. It was telling her to go with him. It wasn’t giving her any information beyond that, but all in good time.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

“So you admit it then, I’m the best?”

“I admit nothing,” she told him firmly. “Let’s go, I’m interested in the wine you keep bragging about.”

“And the bed? I can tell you more about it on the way…”

“No, that I have no interest in at all. But you can tell me about Buttercake. How did you get her?”

He turned the horse and began walking again.

“Caught her digging up my carrots in the middle of the night as I was getting home from a job. Years ago. Six, I guess it must be. Tried to shoo her away, silly beast wouldn’t go. I was too tired to argue. Figured by the time I woke up, she’d be gone. But damned if she hadn’t stuck around to eat my cabbages. I thought for sure she’d run off when she was done decimating my vegetable patch. But the next night I came home and almost tripped over her, she was asleep on my front mat. I guess she adopted me as much as I adopted her. Now she and I go for walks up in the hills. She walks next to me unless she smells mushrooms. Then she’s off like a shot. She’s a spoiled brat. Sleeps on my bed.”

He stopped abruptly, like he regretted saying so much.

“A full grown guar in your bed? Doesn’t sound like there’s room for me too.”

“Ha, no. She’s a little one. Bantam guar. More like the size of a cat. Plenty of space left for a woman, even one with legs as long and sexy as yours.”

“I thought it was my tits you liked.”

“Didn’t know I had to pick a favorite. Especially so early. I don’t like to rush to judgment, Star. Is that what people call you? 

She hesitated. Only two people in her life had ever called her Evie; her father, and Cici.

“Star, yes.”

“Star. Right. I’m keeping my options open.”

She smiled, but only to herself. She would not let him know she thought him clever.

They rode the remaining distance in silence, till the tall city walls and gates of Balmora came into view.

“We’ll leave the horses here,” he told her, dismounting and pressing the reigns into the hand of the tall man standing in front of the city stable. She handed her own horse over and trailed after him into the city.

It had been years and years since she was last in Balmora. But the city looked unchanged. The same dusty brown streets stood mostly empty, the same lazy canal ran through the center of town and out under the walls to the south, the same graceful arching Hlaalu architecture climbed the steep slopes to the west.

Despite the town’s appearance, it currently lay in Redoran hands. This made her uneasy, as did all Dunmer towns controlled by the large families. She glanced warily around. Was it her imagination, or did the few people in the street seem to be quite pointedly looking away from them? Either way, Lleran seemed untroubled. He strolled casually through the streets, looking completely at ease. But she had a bruise on her forearm where he had knocked her blade aside, and she knew that he was likely not as relaxed as he looked. She must remember that: this was a dangerous man. Very dangerous.

They wound their way into the city, crossing the canal to the east and climbing stairs into a warren of apartments.

“This one is mine,” he told her, unlocking the door.

It opened into a light-filled space, wide open, with large windows on the far wall letting the sun stream in across the big room. He gestured her in front of him, and she wandered in, though she usually preferred to walk behind. Why did she trust him? Dangerous, she reminded herself.

“It’s not much,” he told her, “but it’s home. Now make yourself at home while I…”

He broke off. A series of chirps and little gobbling noises grew in volume, then a creature the size of a large chicken raced from around a low sofa and launched itself at Lleran.

“There she is! There’s my girl! My little sweetie!”

Evenstar watched with disbelief as he scooped the little guar up and held her to his chest, murmuring and petting her. Buttercake nuzzled at him and made little clucking sounds that were not unlike the chicken she resembled. 

What a picture, she thought. And it seemed so at odds with what she had thought he would be. He was Morag Tong, an assassin, and obviously extremely skilled at it. It did not seem to square that he would also enjoy snuggling an animal, cooing and making much over it like he loved it. But...he did love it. That was clear. She watched him place a kiss on top of the guar’s little head. How could he be a cold-blooded killer, and also a man of heart? Was it possible to be a killer and not be cold-blooded? Surely not...but this was the second time she had been struck by the contradictions in him.

This question set her off-balance again, he certainly seemed to have a knack for that. Before she could recover, he had set the animal down and was moving into the big room, gesturing for her to seat herself in a chair, while he busied himself at a wine cabinet. 

Truly the apartment was just the one room. She could see his bed against the far wall, it looked sturdy, just as he had promised. An elegant Hlaalu design with an arched canopy above it. She noticed it was made tidily. Did he always make his bed in the morning? Or had he known she would come back with him? She seated herself with her back to the wall and her face to the door. Remember, he’s dangerous, she told herself. I cannot trust him.

He handed her an elegant glass filled two thirds up with ruby colored wine. She held it in her hand, just enjoying the way the light fractured as it hit the cut crystal, the way the liquid inside looked rich, almost velvety. 

“Cheers,” he toasted her, lifting the glass in her direction as he lowered himself into a chair facing her. “To a mutually beneficial relationship.”

He smiled his crooked smile at her and drank. She lifted the glass to her own lips and took a sip. It was as smooth and rich as it looked. Flavors rolled across her tongue in waves.

“It takes like…” she hesitated, waiting for the effect to finish.

“The funky bare feet of a bunch of high elves?” he suggested, swirling his glass.

She surprised herself and laughed; a laugh like she hadn’t had in a long time. It came from deep inside her, and when she thought she was done, it bubbled up in her again. 

“Am I that funny?” he asked, pleased. “Here I just thought I was a phenomenal assassin and lover.”

“I was going to say it takes like summer,” she told him, wiping tears from her eyes. “But I think there’s a hint of feet on the backside.”

He took another sip and pretended to consider.

“I think they were wearing...yes! They had just taken off leather sandals.” He smacked his lips. “Leather made from the hide of…” He took another sip.

“Goats?” she filled in.

“Amatuer,” he scoffed. “Neophyte. Uncultured novice. No, they were tanned from the hide of a springbok that grazed the eastern side of the island. Yes. The grass had the morning sun. Definitely.”

“Of course,” she agreed, drinking. “Very complex.”

“Mmmmmm.”

They sat drinking, and smiling at each other for a few minutes. 

“Another?” he asked her, and moved to refill her glass.

“I’ve delivered on the first half of my bargain,” he told her. “Now you have to deliver on your part, then you can collect on the second half.”

“The pitch?” she asked.

He nodded.

She sighed. She knew she ought to be on her guard now, alert and ready. But the wine and his good company had mellowed her and she wished she could relax into the soft chair and laugh at him some more. 

But no! That way was trouble. And anyway, Evenstar was not a laugher. Or a relaxer. Focus. She sat up straighter.

“Ah, the lady puts on her business face! Right, then. Let’s get to it.”

And he had. He had explained, quite thoroughly, exactly how it worked. He had talked for almost an hour, while she had listened. Then he sat back and let her ask questions, which she had for another hour.

Think about it, he told her. Don’t answer now.

Then, he had stood and offered her his hand with a raised eyebrow. This was a different question.

“No, thank you,” she told him.

“But…you break my heart. I’ve been watching you cross and uncross those legs for two hours now, wondering how it would feel to run my hand up the inside of one.”

He took a step closer so that he was right next to her. She was almost as tall as him, but not quite.

“Will you still kill me if I touch them?” he asked quietly, lifting his hand almost to her breasts before changing direction and laying it on her ribcage.

“I don’t know that I could,” she admitted. “You disarmed me so easily before...I’ve never felt so helpless. Well...not in a long time.”

“And now? Do you feel helpless now? Confronted by my intoxicating masculinity?”

She laughed, and leaned into him a bit as he put his other hand on her waist.

“Is this part of your job? Or just part of your strategy?”

“Neither. Just a perk.”

“I see. And you seduce every woman you recruit?”

“No. But the ones that I want, I almost always get.”

“I see.”

“Does that make you jealous?

“I don’t get jealous.”

“Good, because there have been rather a lot of them. I’m told I’m quite good at what I do.”

“You know, I believe you. But...I’ve been told the same..”

His hands tightened on her, drew her closer.

“I could teach you, you know. How I disarmed you. How to avoid it. You think today is the first time I’ve seen you? I’ve been watching you for weeks. Today is only the first day you’ve seen me. You are good, very good. But you could be better. You could be a master. I could teach you.”

“Yes?” she whispered.

“Yes. That. And other things.”

His mouth was so close to hers. Not touching, but it would take nothing at all to close the distance.

“Maybe I could teach you things,” she told him. 

“I think you could. I assure you, I’m a believer in lifelong learning. I would be an eager student.”

She wanted to. She wanted to very much. And that was why she wouldn’t. A person couldn’t care in this world. They couldn’t give. They couldn’t share. She must be hard and strong and cold and dependent only upon herself. She could not get into bed with him because she realized that she would not want to get out at the end. That had not happened before. And she would not allow it to happen now.

She pulled out of his hands and backed away.

“Thanks for the offer. Both offers. I’ll...consider them.” she told him. She was suddenly very eager to leave, to put distance between them.

“How should I contact you?” she asked him, still backing towards the door.

“Meet me in Vivec City where I found you today. One week from now. At sundown. We’ll have dinner. And more wine. You can give me your answer.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you. Thank you for the wine.”

“It was a great pleasure. And of course, you know where I live. Stop by anytime. If you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” she told him abruptly, then wheeled around and hurried out.

* * *

Sitting under the dock now, she still felt a fool. What had come over her? She had found herself liking him, trusting him; a Morag Tong killer, a stalker who admitted to trailing her for weeks. She kept reminding herself he was a dangerous man, and in more than one way. She did not need to get involved with him. She always kept sex firmly seperated from work. She would not break that rule now, when the stakes were even higher.

And the stakes had never been so high. That had been five days ago. She had two days left to make a decision. Would she go to work for the Morag Tong? Become an elite killer? Make fistfuls of money with little chance of being caught? Train with Lleran? Perhaps sleep with Lleran? Commit herself to an organization she hated and feared?

Or would she stay here, eking out a high-risk living and drinking most of it away with Cici? Sweltering in this city of humans, slitting throats for jealous wives? Bringing home inept strangers and kicking them out the minute the deed was done? Letting her time tick away with little chance for change?

Lleran had told her something at the end that weighed on her heavily, something she had not mentioned to Cici: One could not leave the Morag Tong. It wasn’t a job that you quit at your leisure and moved on from, to a nice career as a grocer or innkeeper. When you were in, you were in. There were secrets they wouldn’t risk spreading. If she joined them, it would be for life.

And life was a long time. Either way it was a long time. Whatever choice she made, she had so much longer to regret it. She was twenty. That was young. So then why did she feel so old? Why did she feel like she had no choice? Or rather, only one choice between two bad options? Why did she suddenly feel like she didn’t know what she wanted anymore? Something had changed, but she didn’t know what. She felt restless and unsatisfied. Tired. Empty. What could fill her up? She had no idea.

That was what made her mind up in the end: the change. She had not realized she wanted one, but as she looked at the three years behind her since she had begun this life, and the many years stretching out in front of her, she knew that she did want one. Badly enough to join the Morag Tong.

When had this itch began? What was it? What did she want? Why did things that had seemed so certain, suddenly seem in question? Was joining the Morag Tong really the change she needed? 

La, as Cici would say. She pushed away the lingering uncertainty. She had had enough of the damp sand sticking to her legs. No doubts, no regrets; that had always been her policy. The decision was made. She would not second guess it. She would have some dinner, and then wander down to the Mudcrab and Suds. It was the rowdier of the two taverns, and she suddenly felt desperate to forget.

Chapter Four

“You will do this to me?” Cici asked, unbelieving. “You will leave me alone in this godsforsaken town of drunks and criminals? I did not think you would. I thought you would not choose this.”

“Cici. I hate to be the one to deliver this truth to you. But you’re a drunk and a criminal. And I’m not worried that you’ll be alone.” 

“I will be! Alone does not mean lacking company. It means lacking...what do I mean; connection!”

“You looked very connected to that chap last night, the Altmer. Connected by the face anyway.”

“This is what I am speaking of! You think he means something to me? He is already gone. He would not even tell me what he did or where he was going. I fear he too was a criminal. He was so secretive.” She paused, looking reflective. “An excellent lover though. I had nothing to teach him. Dibella has already made a protege of that one.”

This made Evenstar shift uncomfortably, her inside writhing. She was always bothered by listening to Cici’s exploits. Her own she kept held tightly to her chest. Was it shame? She didn’t know. Only that she disliked discussing lovers with her best friend.

“Sounds like the connection was just fine then,” she said sourly, though she well understood what Cici meant. One night or a dozen with a man, she had never felt even the beginning of what she felt for Cici. Could a woman ever be as close to a man as to another woman? Women just understood each other. Evenstar had no interest in understanding men. 

But Cici was different. She was the only human Evenstar gave a damn about, and now she was going to leave her.

“I’ll be back to visit all the time,” she said, in an effort to be reassuring. But her words were empty, and they both knew it. Though the Tong operated across Tamriel, Evenstar must be located in Vvardenfell, and would spend the majority of her time in Morrowind. Of all the places she was likely to go, Anvil was at the bottom of the list. Not that she couldn’t visit, but of course Cici traveled frequently as well. Their days of regular evening drinks and companionship were over. 

Evenstar thought of the hundreds of nights just like this one. How many drinks had they shared, when one or the other of them had not had enough money to buy even a mug of ale? How many stories had they laughed or shivered over, telling each other of work, the marks, the customers, the danger and adrenaline. How many jobs had they shared? Evenstar watching, standing guard, waiting for her infallible instinct to show her the moment when she should gesture Cici to glide in on silent feet, her compact, perfect body as sinuous and pliant as good leather, and draw the knife across a neck like she drew satin across her milky white skin.

As good as they were on their own, they were even better as a team. And not just at work. But also at life. How many of Cici’s secrets did she carry? And vice versa. Well did Evenstar remember the night Cici had helped her carry the body of an Imperial out the back and down three flights of stairs, out the city gates and round the bluffs. They had spent all night burying him. No one but Cici could have helped her with that. No one else would she trust. No one else would shoulder the risk. Or the night that she had held Cici as her friend had clung to the edge of life. She had lost so much blood, Evenstar had feared there was nothing to be done. Evenstar had no ability with healing magic, but she had cleaned and bandaged Cecile’s wound herself. All through the night and most of the next day she had stayed next to Cici. Cici had not died, and the wound had not festered, but it had left a scar down the left jaw of Cici’s otherwise flawless face. Evenstar thought it made her friend more beautiful than ever, she now looked dangerous as well as gorgeous. Her wide-spaced blue eyes, her pert little nose, her thick, dark hair, her pouty mouth with its full lips, all were enhanced by that thin white line curving from ear, almost to chin. 

They were a team at work, at life, even at men. Plenty of new blood passed along Anvil’s docks, and Cici and Evenstar weighed and measured it with the eagle eye of a goldsmith calculating the worth of a watch. Who was a bad gamble? Who was handsome but likely to be disappointing? Who was young and impressionable, or older and experienced. Who would go all night? Who had dibs on this one, or that one. Evenstar did not often take men home. She was a loner, and liked it that way. And she did not enjoy the complications. But when she did pick someone, it was always with Cici’s approval. 

“Not him,” Cici would say dismissively. “His sword grip is dirty. He takes no care with it. He will be a selfish lover.”

Or

“Do you feel his eyes on you, Evie? This man will devour you I think. And just what you like. Yes, he comes over. But...be very cool I think. He is the type to want the chase.”

Or

“Gods Cici, not him. He’s already drunk and mean with it. His pretty fur isn’t worth the trouble.”

And then there was the time, just once, but well-remembered, that they had both wanted the same man.

Evenstar had felt a pulse the instant he looked at her, which was just a moment longer than was casually acceptable. He was tall, extremely tall. He had silver hair, and piercing dark eyes. He was gorgeous. 

But Cici wanted him. And Evenstar did not care enough to argue. She never did. So she shrugged her shoulders and drank while Cici flirted. 

The man, a Dunmer, was enormous next to Cici. He spoke to her at length, laughing, touching her arm. But every so often, Evenstar saw his gaze flick back to herself. No matter, she wouldn’t try to take him away. As a matter of fact, she would go. She had drank enough and it was late.

But as she had pushed the door open and stepped out, she heard Cici call her.

She turned back to find Cici right behind her.

“Don’t leave,” Cici told her. “Or, don’t leave alone. Evie. Come with us.”

“What, you’re going to another bar? Why?”

“No, we are leaving. Come home with us. I know you wanted him. He wants you too.”

“What? How do you know?”

“La. I see you two shooting glances at each other. I think, it is not fair that I keep him all to myself. I think...my best friend and I...we could share?”

Evenstar had felt frozen in place by this. She was no innocent, she knew these things were done. But not by her, at least, not in the past. And with Cici…

She looked at Cici without speaking. Then,

“No. I couldn’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because...I don’t know! It would be weird!”

“It is not!! I have done it before. Evie, you do not have to touch me. You can just be with him.”

“Touch you?” she repeated, surprised. This idea had not even occurred to her.

“I am repellent to you, hmmm?” Cici was joking. She knew Evie thought her beautiful. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You could not stomach it, to see me naked?”

Evenstar’s stomach felt full of snakes. Cici was teasing her. But could she do it? The man, the drinks, the night, Cici, the wildness, the feeling of being alive, of being young, Cici…

The door swung open and the man stepped out into the darkness. The light from inside the bar backlit him for a second. He paused as he saw her, then let the door close behind him. He walked over to them.

“Your friend said that she would ask you to join us.” He hesitated. “I hope you’ll come,” he added.

“I’ll come,” she said, softly.

Remembering it now made the blood rush to her face. With her skin, it was impossible to tell she was blushing. For once, she was grateful. In the meantime, Cici was still talking.

“I will never forgive you of course. Unless you become rich as King Emeric and invite me to come live with you in your grand estate tended to by servants. Do that and I shall certainly forgive you. But in the meantime, if tomorrow you leave, then tonight we make a night to remember!” declared Cici.

“Didn’t we do that last night,” asked Evenstar? “This morning it felt like we did.”

“No! Absolutely no! Last night I did not know you were leaving me. Tonight we drink double. And you will pay. Because soon you will be rich.”

Soon she would be rich. Unarguably, unshakably rich. The thought gave her a smile and she found herself raising her glass towards Cici.

“Right! I’m paying! Let’s drink!”

They did. Well into the evening. And yet, no matter how much she drank, Evenstar could not seem to get drunk. She wanted to; to lose control, one last time. To sing on a table, to dance with a stranger, to walk home with her arm around Cici to keep from falling down; she wanted them all. But it seemed only the last was destined to happen, and only because Cici herself was drunk.

As Evenstar walked her best friend home, she tried to recapture the elation she had briefly felt earlier. The excitement that she was beginning something new, the anticipation of having money, the eagerness to learn from Lleran, even to see him; earlier these things had felt like the soap bubbles she blew as a child when she dreamed of floating inside of one, up into the sky. Now they felt like stones tied around her, dragging her down.

“We are here!” sang out Cici, flinging open her door and immediately kicking off her shoes and moving to light first one candle, then others. 

“We are here. But now, mon amie, I leave you,” Evenstar said, bowing, and beginning to back out the door. She was eager to get back to her room and think.

“No! Stay! One more drink, together. Our last. You pour it.”

Cici whirled away, across the room. Evenstar edged forward into the room and closed the door behind her. She knew better than to argue with Cici after she’d been drinking. Easier to just have one more quick drink. Perhaps she could get away with pouring them small. She poked in Cici’s cupboard for two glasses, and opened the bottle of wine on the counter. She did pour them small, Cici’s smaller than hers.

“Here, this one’s yours...Cici what on Nirn!”

She had turned to hand her friend the glass only to find Cici naked, entirely naked, laying atop her covers.

“Are you going to sleep naked?” Evenstar asked nervously. She was trying to look away while handing Cici the wine and not succeeding. Cici wouldn’t take the glass and Evenstar had to keep glancing back at her and edging closer to the bed.

“I always sleep naked, ma cherie. But I am not going to sleep just yet.”

“Then what are you doing? And take this, will you please?”

“Put it down here, and come sit next to me.”

“No!”

“Evie?”

Evenstar felt a panic rising in her. She quite desperately did not want to understand what was going on, but the knowledge was dangerously close. If she could just keep from setting the last puzzle piece into place, then perhaps she could deny what was happening here. She could not face it. She did not turn around.

“Evie, look at me.”

Evenstar swallowed. She could not. She would not. She had not let it happen that night last year. And she had worked hard hammering even the memory into exactly the shape she wished it to be. This would not happen.

“Evie,” a whisper.

She turned around.

It was heartbreaking. Cici lay on her back, her knees bent to the side. Her dark, lustrous hair splayed out across the pillow. Her pale, ivory skin, the skin that reminded Evenstar of thickest cream, gleamed in the candlelight. Her breasts, her lovely, large breasts with their nipples of palest pink drew Evenstar’s eyes like a magnet. The flickering light danced over her body. Cici was all curves. She was small, tiny even, but every inch was curve; her wide hips, her shapely legs, her full bottom, even her small round tummy. And her breasts. As Evenstar looked, trying with every passing second to look away again, Cici reached her small hand up and played her fingers softly across her nipple, causing it to harden.

Evenstar made a small anguished noise.

“Cici, whatever you think you’re doing, stop. You’re beautiful, but I don’t want this.”

“Shhh, my darling. You do. I know it. I see it in your eyes, when you look at me. You do want me. You want this, yes?” She took both her hands to her breasts, holding them up, offering them to Evenstar. “You wish to touch them? To put your mouth on them? I want you to, cherie. I do. Come, touch me.”

“No,” said Evenstar, yet she took a step closer. Cici seemed to glow. Her skin so luminous it seemed to absorb and give back the candlelight. Her areola were only one shade darker than her skin. The whole of her was palest moonlight on snow. But warmer. 

“I saw it for the first time that night, with the Dunmer. Your eyes said you wanted me, you could hardly stop looking. Yet you would not let yourself touch me. Even the smallest touch. Why? It is okay to want me, I am very wantable. Everyone says so.”

She smiled a satisfied smile and curled herself tighter, rolling onto her side. She was like some small young thing, thought Evenstar. A puppy perhaps, a soft, dimpled, warm, adorable puppy that one wanted to pick up and snuggle. Except that Evenstar did not snuggle, puppies or humans. Or best friends.

“I didn’t touch you because I was busy touching him,” she said. “He’s the one I wanted to go home with, not you. I don’t sleep with girls.”

“But you want to or, at least, you want to sleep with me. Sometimes I still see it in your eyes. Come,” urged Cici. “Evie, I want to give you this. A gift, to remember me. To always remember your Cici loves you. Wherever you go in the world. You are not alone. Even in the Morag Tong. My strong dark elf, always aloof, always like a stone. Let me melt you for this one night. Let me give you this.”

Give her. To remember. A gift. One night. The words felt like rocks in her stomach. Cici did not want her. Cici pitied her. Cici saw her looking, saw what Evenstar would not admit even now, that she looked and wanted. And she thought to throw Evenstar this final bone, now that she was leaving and would not have to look her in the eyes again. Cici did not desire her, love her, want her. She just wanted to be remembered. Evenstar was to be a notch on her belt. A pity fuck.

These things were wrong. She knew that as she thought them. But it was easier this way. Easier to walk away if she were angry. The anger and shame gave her strength, and she held them tight.

She turned away.

“You’re wrong,” she told Cici. She intended to sound cold. Certainly she was good at that, everyone said she was cold. But the words came out choked. She groped blindly for the door handle, tears were clouding her vision now. But Evenstar never cried, after all, did stone cry?

“Evie, wait! Don’t go. Please! Not like this. Wait. I’ll get dressed. Just...wait, Evie PLEASE!” 

But Evenstar was gone. She closed the door behind her and ran. Wiping wetness from her cheeks, she concentrated on shutting this away. It had never happened. She was leaving tomorrow. She would not see Cici again. Could she not be trusted even to have a friend? She must start over. She would be harder even than before. 

Like a stone.

Chapter Five

But the thing was, it was hard to be made of stone with Lleran. She arrived the next day in Vivec City prepared to accept nothing from him. Nor offer anything. She would give her assent to the Morag Tong, learn the details, thank him and move on. But somehow she found herself maneuvered into having a drink to celebrate her entry into the Tong. Then, though she promised herself to remain immovable, his charm and sunny disposition had her dropping her guard within minutes.

“Cheers,” he toasted her. They sat outside at a bar, enjoying a glass of wine in the late sunshine. “I have to admit I’m a bit surprised you said yes. I rather thought you were going to refuse. Of course, I’m extremely happy to be wrong. First, it proves I’m even more persuasive than I thought. Second, I’m very happy that you’ll be a regular visitor to my house and bed. Third, it’s the right choice and making it proves that you’re smart. I knew you were smart. I just feared you were even more stubborn. I do enjoy being wrong. About small things. Infrequently. So cheers!”

“I’m not agreeing with any of that.” she told him. “The decision had nothing to do with your powers of persuasion, I simply wanted a change. Second, I have no intention of visiting your bed, regularly or sporadically. Third, I dispute that I’m stubborn.”

“Dispute away, my dear Star. I look forward to many a spirited dispute. Passionate even. I believe there’s any number of things we could discuss passionately.”

She considered him for a moment.

“What are you thinking. Has anyone ever told you it’s terrifying when you think?”

“No. Emphatically not. But what I was thinking was...call me Evie.”

“Evie,” he repeated. “Yes.” He smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“For what? I’m not sleeping with you, I told you.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because I’m never sleeping with anyone ever again!”

She said this without intending to, indeed she couldn’t have intended it, she hadn’t even known it. But instead of jumping on it as she assumed he would, he sat back in his chair.

“Ah. It’s like that, is it?

“I...yes. It is.” She suddenly felt that she might cry. Images of the previous night rose up like a wave above her. She blinked rapidly, studying her wine. 

“Alright then,” he said, surprisingly gently. 

They sat silently for a bit. She slowly got herself under control. She realized, with surprise, that she was glad he was there. 

“So what were you thanking me for, before?”

“For trusting me.”

“With what?”

“With your name. With this decision. With yourself.”

“Myself?”

“I think if I asked you right now, you would tell me.”

“What?”

“Everything. You know, if you don’t mind me saying Evie, being alone doesn’t make a person strong.”

“It makes them invulnerable. I can’t hurt anyone if I don’t let them close.”

“Are you worried you’ll hurt me?”

“Yes. Or that you’ll hurt me.”

“Letting people close makes a person stronger.”

She laughed bitterly.

“You can’t believe that. We’re assassins. We can’t let people close. We have to not care.”

“I disagree. Strongly. We have to care more, in order to keep our humanity.”

“I have no humanity.”

“You’re wrong!” He leaned forward suddenly and took her hand. “You are warm and witty and spirited. You’re filled with anger and hurt and remorse. You’re scared. You’re brave. You care enough to not want to hurt me. You cared about someone else enough that you hurt them and regret it. These are not the traits of a person with no humanity. Evie you think you need to be hard. That’s not true. Let me show you.”

“By taking me to bed?”

“By being your friend. With benefits.”

She laughed. But she let him keep holding her hand. He squeezed it once, then let it go.

“Anyway, before I take you to bed, you need to have one. What’s your living situation. Can I help you somehow? And tomorrow I need to take you north. To meet my boss. And yours now. So I’d love to help you get settled today. If you want my help.”

“Lleran?”

“Evie?”

“Thank you. For...you know.”

“I do. And I have a number of suggestions for ways you could demonstrate your gratitude. Shall I tell you?”

“By all means, I appreciate a vivid imagination.”

“You’d appreciate more than that if you let me touch those really, truly magnificent tits.”

“I think it would be you appreciating me in that situation.”

“Mmm. Without doubt, I would. But let me tell you why in the end you’d be the lucky one…”

She sat back smiling and listening to him. Despite his constant suggestions that they be lovers, she felt sure that what they were destined to be was best friends. Well...maybe not best. Though she could barely think of Cici without wanting to curl up in a ball and hide she also could not imagine not calling her best friend. But she and Lleran could be tremendously good friends anyway. And that thought made her happy. While she wasn’t ready to accept all of what he said, she felt an immense sense of relief at surrendering the idea that she could not have a friend. She was not the sort that wanted many friends, but one...yes one true friend could make the world a different place. And he thought her a good person. Despite what she did. And had done. She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her and his voice wash over her. A new start. A new chance. The thing with Cici still weighed on her like a pile of bricks. But she would not make those mistakes again. And Cici was not here to pity her. Or tempt her. She could move on from the whole thing and hopefully not think of it. 

She opened her eyes and stood.

“I’m suddenly feeling energetic. Come on, will you help me find an apartment? Nothing big, I don’t have much money. Yet.”

But she would. That, and all the other good things would come. For the first time in a very long time she felt a flicker of faith.

Chapter Six

Evenstar was hiding behind a haystack. That was the thing about being a notorious assassin: there was so much less glamour than one might assume. She had been behind the haystack for over two hours now. Her legs were tired from crouching, her back was aching, her nose prickled with hay dust, and the smell of horse shit was everywhere. She waved away a determined fly and sighed. No glamour at all.

She reached down and felt the dagger for the fiftieth time, wiggled it in the sheath. It must draw soundlessly and smoothly in the moment. And it would. It had never failed her. And she had never failed. Evenstar had never been caught, never been seen. She had 27 kills to her name in the three years she had worked for the Morag Tong. She had never botched a job. She was notorious, but utterly anonymous. Most assumed her to be a man. One of the Tong’s best and most feared, yet no one knew her name. 

Almost no one.

Suddenly, a voice. She tensed, listening. It was him, Turvan Redoran, but was he alone? Who was he talking to?

“There she is, Daddy’s beautiful girl! How’s my fine strong lady today? Ready to run?” The sounds of patting and whickering followed.

Alone then; he was talking to the horse. She knew, because she had watched him for the six previous days, that he always rode at 4pm. He greeted the horse first, sometimes gave her an apple, then walked out of the stall and into the tack room, he would make two trips: one for the saddle, one for the bridle. She had determined that this was the best time to strike him: coming from the tack room, out of the dark and into the bright afternoon, with both of his hands holding the saddle. He would be momentarily blinded, and incapable of defending himself. As he left the stall, she crept out behind him and positioned herself to the side of the door. It would only be a minute, sometimes less.

She counted forty-two seconds before he stepped out of the doorway, moving awkwardly with the weight of the saddle. She stepped silently up behind him, drawing the knife as she moved. She twisted it up and thrust, stabbing him in the low back. He grunted and lurched forward, but she grabbed his neck and pulled it back, slitting his throat neatly. He fell at her feet, leaning forward, slumping on top of the saddle. Blood ran down the leather, some of it soaking into the saddle blanket, some trickling down the stirrups and dripping into the dirt. So much blood. Always she had that thought; that there was so much blood in a person. Evenstar watched until the flow slowed, then stopped. His heart had quit beating. Dead. She reached fastidiously into his pockets, avoiding the blood, and felt for a wallet, money, objects, anything she could steal to give an appearance of the murder being a robbery. But there was nothing. And it wouldn’t have been much of a cover anyway. The Redorans were unlikely to believe that Turvan, a general and military strategist, had been killed by a common criminal for his gold ring. 

As she stooped close over him though, something about him made her pause. She had been watching him for a week, but always from far away. This was her first time seeing him up close, and there was something familiar about him. She hesitated, hovering above him. How would she know him? She wracked her brain, but nothing occurred to her. She could not linger here though. Quickly, she wiped the dagger clean on his shirt and let her eyes sweep the area: clear. Moving casually but briskly, she angled away from the stable, into the cover of the trees. Five minutes walking brought her to her horse, and she swung up into the saddle. The past three years had seen her improve as a rider, though Evenstar would always be most comfortable on the ground, preferably in a crouch. Riding made her feel exposed.

She rode slowly back to Balmora. Her own apartment was in Vivec City, but she needed to report in, confirm his death. Her boss, Velorian Rethran, was a frighteningly intimidating Dunmer woman forty years her senior. She had the longest fingernails Evenstar had ever seen. She would click them on the desk as she listened to her assassins report to her. If she was happy, the clicking was slow, a measured tapping of one finger at a time. But if Velorian was not happy...if she were worried, annoyed, frustrated, or otherwise disappointed in the performance or the situation, the clicking would increase in speed till it was a drumming with no pause, no individual tapping, but a buzzing as of angry fetcherflies. Velorian had eyes that were darkest black. They were so black, it was difficult to even discern a pupil. She made Evenstar’s hackles rise. With her glittering dark eyes and her long claws, she reminded Evenstar of a shalk beetle. Even Lleran was terrified of her.

Lleran. He was the silver lining of any trip up to Balmora. Evenstar would spend an unhappy hour under the piercing gaze of her boss, sweating and stammering--even a flawless job seemed to necessitate an interrogation--but afterwards she’d be rewarded by a very large glass of a very fine wine and an evening spent in Lleran’s very good company. The thought brought a lift to her spirits, which were still low. She felt unnerved by the sense that she had known her mark. And her back was throbbing from squatting for hours. No, there was very little glamour at all in being a killer. But the money was every bit as good as she had hoped. Better even. She watched the amount in her bank account rise by the week. For an orphan girl who had spent years in poverty, and further years just on the edge, the money was security, a strong brick wall to rest her weight against. She felt no inclination to spend it, despite all of Cici’s long-ago suggestions on the various ways it could be deployed.

Cici. Why had she allowed that name to occur to her, that uncomfortable thought to distract her? She tried hard to not think of Cici, though even these three years later her friend occurred to her with dismaying frequency. She had not seen Cici once since the day she had left Anvil. Cici had written, six times she had written. And Evenstar, each time telling herself that she would throw the letter away unread, had read them, reread them, and kept them to read again till their creases threatened to tear apart and their corners were tattered. But though she could not bring herself to get rid of them, she also could not bring herself to reply. What would she say? There was no room in her life anymore for what had once been. In the beginning, Cici’s letters had been full of apology. She was sorry about what had happened, she was sorry she had made Evenstar uncomfortable, could Evie not forgive her? Did Evie not miss her? Cici missed her more than she could say. Could they not forget about it and move on? Gradually the tone had changed, and now Cici’s letters were mostly news. There was less about missing her, less about forgiveness, fewer invitations to visit. The most recent letter had read like something that you might send an aunt you were not particularly close to. Or so Evie supposed; she had no aunt with whom to correspond. Or any other relative. No, all Evie had was Cici, and she had poisoned that relationship by wanting to sleep with Cici, and even worse, by letting it show.

Because yes, she was ready, three years later, to admit that she had wanted Cici. Was close to admitting that she might have even loved Cici. Which had come first she didn’t know. Did she want Cici because she loved her? Or was loving her just the sum of needing her friendship and desiring her body? Would she ever have realized it on her own? Was there a universe in which she would have acted on it if she had? These questions plagued Evenstar, even three years later. Along with the biggest question of all: had she made the right decision? She had thought, in the moment, that touching Cici would ruin their friendship. But clearly not touching Cici had also ruined their friendship. Of course, there had been other reasons she had made that choice; fear being the biggest. She had been scared of everything that night: how it would feel, what it would be like, if she would be good enough, if Cici would like it, what it said about her, Evenstar. For whatever Cici might say, she did not favor girls. Did Evenstar? Many hours Evenstar had spent racking her brain over this question. Were there other girls she had looked at? Wanted? She did not think so, but then she had not realized she wanted Cici either. She had thought Cici beautiful, had loved to curl up with her friend on a couch and talk late into the night, had even felt some jealousy over Cici’s many lovers, though she had always attributed that to a judgmental streak of her own that she tried earnestly to suppress. But she had never wanted Cici until that night with the Dunmer, had she? 

Oh gods, that night. Evenstar shifted unhappily on her horse, and the gentle mare flicked her ears back in consternation. She did not want to think of that night. She had succeeded, mostly, in forgetting it, even back in Anvil she had done so. And yet the memory came, slow but inexorable like lava flow from Red Mountain. And though it was bitter, it was also sweet. The pain of admitting the truth to herself was like a torture that she craved. And so she sighed and let it come, gazing at the empty road above the mare’s swiveling brown ears.

She had watched her friend slip off an already skimpy dress with a lump in her throat. The man lay on Cici’s bed, already mostly naked, his hairless chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched Cici with glittering eyes. But who could not watch Cici? Just taking off a dress was a dance to Cici. Feeling the eyes upon her only amplified her performance. As the fabric slithered off of her friend’s body and puddled on the floor, Evenstar had been grateful for the man’s exhalation of breath that covered her own similar reaction. Cici was perfection, raising her arms above her head and turning, to give them a look at her smooth back and rounded bottom. When Cici moved to the bed, crawling over the man and straddling him, Evenstar felt she had been struck by lightning, so instantaneous and shocking was her reaction. In that moment she hated the man, hated him with all her being as he reached his hands up to Cici’s shoulders and pulled her down so that he could take her breast in his mouth. It should be her, Evenstar, touching Cici that way. Who was this man, a stranger, putting his mouth on her perfect, treasured Cici, running his tongue across her nipples, making her moan that way? It was wrong. A desecration. Evenstar would kill him. She would kill him and take Cici away from his harsh, seeking hands, his greedy mouth, and the grotesque, inappropriate bulge in his breeches. She would be the one to worship Cici’s beauty and sensuousness. She would run her own long, dark fingers over Cici’s pale hips, her long, thick hair, her fine round bottom. A girl would know better than a man what to give another girl. Cici would moan for her, oh yes, twice as loud.

She had taken a step towards the bed, hand groping blindly for the knife at her side, when Cici turned her wide blue eyes towards Evenstar.

“Evie! Why are you waiting? Come! There is plenty to enjoy for both of us! He is as good as we thought he would be.” And she had sat up giggling, resting one small white hand on the plenty in question, while the man smiled at Evenstar and reached out a hand to her.

In an instant her thoughts shattered into a thousand dangerous shards of glass. They lay everywhere, a trap waiting to snare her. Oh gods she must avoid them at all cost, or she would be lacerated by innumerable bleeding cuts. Scarred permanently. She might never stand again if she fell down into them and saw them. No, she could not even look at the splinters. Instead, she stepped over them, moving to the bed with a smile, already reaching behind her own back to unfasten her top. The man sighed as she lay next to him, turning immediately to her and touching her gently, cupping her breast in his hand as he kissed her lips. Down at the foot of the bed she sensed Cici moving, untying the man’s breeches, she felt him shift as Cici pulled them off. But she did not look. She would never look again. She would sweep the dangerous detritus of her thoughts under the bed forever. She had been jealous of Cici touching the man, not the reverse. She had wanted him in the moment she saw him and she wanted him now. It was his hands she wanted on her, and when she felt Cici’s hand brush her thigh, she rolled away, up on top of him. It was his mouth she wanted on her, and she arched back and moaned as he licked at her. It was him that made her slippery between her legs, so that he slid into her with no effort at all, just the smallest of hip movements as she sat atop him. And it was him that she suddenly knew she must ride with an energy bordering on desperation. This was what she needed. Only this. She would fuck him into oblivion and this moment would be endless; this moment in which she knew with reassuring certainty that she had never wanted her best friend, never desired Cici’s body, and never thought to kill for love or lust and claim Cecile’s very soul for her own.

Chapter Seven

Balmora loomed up at last, and Evenstar eagerly abandoned her thoughts. Handing her mare over with a silent nod to the stablehand, she made her way into the city. She had long since become used to the way the residents seemed to find important business elsewhere when she walked past. The words Morag Tong were never heard in Balmore, even in a whisper. But everyone knew. And most recognized the look of the confident and competent dark elves who were not locals, yet visited with regularity, always with the same destination.

Velorian Rethran sat behind a desk on the fourth floor of a narrow, elegant townhome on the western side of the city. She seemed to be expecting Evenstar, though how she could know of Evenstar’s arrival was a mystery. She employed no servants or assistants of any kind, and her employees let themselves in with a key. Still, when she arrived at the fourth floor, breathing heavily, Evenstar found Velrorian with a folder labeled “Redoran” on the desk in front of her. She seated herself with a small sigh of relief.

“Well?” Velorian prompted, with no preamble.

“Success. No trouble. No complications.”

“None at all?”

“As I said.”

The nails tapped, slowly.

“Tell me.”

Evenstar explained, concisely. Velorian interrupted, frequently. At last she finished and sat back, waiting. There would be more questions, she knew.

Velorian watched her.

“And you did not enter the house?”

She had expected questions, But this was a strange one.

“No. Was I supposed to?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Velorian, what are you getting at?”

“Watch your tone. The man was a general and a chief strategy maker for the family. I simply wondered if you had seen any of his papers. Perhaps taken them.”

Evenstar watched her without expression. This was a very odd line of questioning, but she knew better than to show stress, anxiety, or worse, curiosity.

“No. I didn’t”

Velorian sighed.

“Very well.” Her boss’ expression revealed little, but Evenstar had the instincts of a predator, and she sensed a settling, an adjusting. Perhaps relief. 

The fingers paused, then began drumming faster.

“And did you enjoy killing him?”

“No. Why? Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. I often find that the ones who care become sloppy in the end. The thrill, the joy, it becomes an addiction. The thirst eventually overrules the instinct. An assassin who enjoys killing is not an assassin. They are naught but a common killer. A murderer. I am glad to hear that you are not such a one.”

“You’ve never asked me that question before. Why today? Do I look especially happy?”

“No. I simply thought...under the circumstances...never mind. You do not look happy. You look ill tempered. But you can uncross your arms and be dismissed. I am through with you. Another job well done Evenstar. 

“You’ve done very well here, you know. I am pleased with you.”

This was also surprising. Praise from Velorian was about as common as summer snow.

“Thank you.”

“Yes. Continue to do right by us and we will do right by you. Good day. Come see me the week after next. I have something that I think will be ready by then, and perfect for you.”

With that Velorian turned her attention to her folder, scratching with a quill noisily. Evenstar left without her boss raising her head.

Five minutes later she was knocking on Lleran’s door. He was slow to open it. She had to knock twice, waiting a minute in between.

At last he swung it open, smiling when he saw her.

“What took so long? Do you have a woman in here? If so, I swear I don’t care. I’m coming in anyway and I’ll drink a glass of wine and pretend I don’t hear anything while you finish.”

“Darling if I did, I’d tell her to bugger off for you. I’m still hopeful you know. Any day could be the one that you realize what you’re missing. If today is that day I don’t want to miss the opportunity because some scraggly blond Altmer can’t stop begging me for one more go-round.”

“If you’re so good, why would she need more than one round? Wasn’t she satisfied?”

“If one glass of wine is good, isn’t two better? If you tried this vintage once I promise you, you’d want to finish the bottle. Though I admit Antaea is a little...needy.” She thought he looked a bit tight around the eyes, haunted maybe.

“Poor dear, did she tire you out?”

“Worry not, I still have enough for you if you say the word.” Still, she thought he sounded a bit hollow. He was missing some of his usual bluster.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him. “For real. You sound tired.”

He sank down onto the couch and beckoned her closer. She sat next to him and he put his arm around her.

“I am. I’m damnably tired. I’ve been traveling for almost three weeks. There’s not an alliance I haven’t fled from in the dead of night this past month.” He sighed. “I might be getting too old for this.”

She might have teased him, but he sounded too bleak for her heart to be in it.

“How old are you? You never will tell me, no matter how many times I ask.”

“You’re a pest. If I tell you, do you promise to take it to your grave?”

“Of course.”

He nodded. If there was one thing they were good at, it was keeping secrets.

“I’m fifty.”

“Fifty!” This was shocking. She had known he was older than her, but thought him perhaps forty. 

“But you’re so good-looking! I mean...shit. I didn’t say that.”

He was smiling at her. 

“Oh, you said it. No taking it back now. You think I’m debonair. You think I’m sexy. Just admit it. You’re into my mature, sophisticated, incredibly competent manly self.”

“That’s right,” she agreed. “I can’t get enough of your...maturity.”

“Kiss me?” he asked her. “I really need it baby.”

She did, turning her head and pressing her mouth to his gently. They kissed for a few seconds, then he sighed and pulled his head away.

“Thank you,” he told her, and leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

They sat in silence for a while. She thought about the job, and about her closing interview with Velorian.

“I had a strange meeting with the Shalk today,” she said at last.

“Oh?”

“She asked me if I’d gone inside.”

“Well, had you?”

“No, but what does it matter?” 

“I don’t know. Did she say why she was asking?” He had his eyes closed and looked on the brink of falling asleep.

“Yes, bullshit about papers and had I taken anything. As if I’d take something without being instructed to.”

“Mmmm.”

“But it was odd.” She paused, trying to bring into focus what had most bothered her. “It was like she was worried that I’d seen something I shouldn’t. But what would that be? Why do I care?”

He lifted his head and opened his eyes. He seemed to be thinking it over.

“I don’t know.” He was quiet for a long time. “I’ll tell you something I shouldn’t,” he said at last. “That job wasn’t supposed to go to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Velorian was fit to be tied that I’d given it to you.”

“But why?”

“Damned if I know. But she gave me the sharp side of her tongue for half an hour over it. Not that I’d known. If I’d known I would have given it to someone else, of course.” He shrugged.

“Does that happen often? That she doesn’t want someone on something specific? And why? What could it matter?”

He spread his hands wide in an I-Don’t-Know gesture.

“Yes, it happens. Not often, but it’s not irregular. Usually has to do with a certain skill set being more valuable. But sometimes it’s background; where a person is from, who they know, other jobs they’ve had, what they might realize, things she doesn’t want us understanding. Always keeping us in the dark, right? Worried we might put two and two together.” 

He sounded flat, annoyed. This was something they discussed often, the Tong’s desire to give its employees as little information as possible was frustrating. Though they both understood the reason behind the policy, in effect it was often condescending, even insulting. After all, they were assassins, not children. 

“So you don’t know why she didn’t want me?”

“No, but don’t take it personally. She likes you. As much as she likes anyone. I’m not sure she’s actually capable of human emotion.”

“Oh I don’t care, it’s just...why? I can’t get past her attitude. She was flustered, Lleran. And she’s never flustered. She asked me if I’d enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it? What, killing?” He looked taken aback by this, as she had been. It was an insulting question.

“Yeah. And when I asked her why she cared, she said something about ‘under the circumstances.’ What circumstances?”

“Circumstances?” he muttered. He looked as puzzled as she felt.

“Right. What circumstances? And why would she say that?”

“I literally have no idea. You’re right, it’s very puzzling.”

He settled back and drew her close again, closing his eyes and laying his head back.

“But baby I’m too tired to think about it. The shalk doesn’t operate like you and I. Remember that time you told me you didn’t have any humanity? You were so wrong about you. But that’s Velorian to a tee. She has no humanity. There’s no point in trying to understand her.” 

But Evenstar would not let it drop so easily.

“You can find out,” she suggested.

“Me?” his eyes flew open again and he lifted his head.

“Who else?” she asked. “I can’t. There’s no way. But you can.”

“No. No way. Why? It’s sure to be a silly, unimportant reason. I’d be risking my neck to find out and risking it doubly to tell you. Sometimes I think you forget who we work for. If they don’t want us to know, finding out is dangerous.”

“Lleran? It’s important. My instinct is telling me that this is important. Please. Just find out why she didn’t want me on the job. It must have something to do with why I would enjoy killing him.”

This was cheating a bit. He always told her to listen to her instinct, that he’d never known anyone with instinct as sharp and reliable as hers. And of course she knew he’d do anything for her. They were best friends. She felt a pang of guilt at asking him, but she hadn’t lied, it was important. She knew it. So she pressed it, though she felt terrible as she looked at his anguished face.

“I’m asking you. Please? I know it’s connected. And when I saw him up close...I thought I knew him somehow.”

He was quiet. For a long moment he looked at her. Then he sighed and looked across the room. Buttercake, asleep on Evenstar’s lap, made a small chirping noise. She ran her hand across the guar’s plump backside. 

“Alright,” he said at last. “I’ll see what I can find.”

He didn’t say anything more, but she knew what he was thinking. It was stupid, dangerous, and unlikely to end well. She was asking him something she shouldn’t. And he was agreeing to something foolhardy in an attempt to please her. He was walking into a lava cave with a hunger in the back. Because of her curiosity. Because she wanted to know. Suddenly she felt awful. At once she changed her mind.

“Lleran don’t. I’m sorry. Please don’t risk it. Forget I ever asked. You’re right, it’s probably something stupid. You’re far more important to me than whatever the answer is. I was being selfish. And dumb. Don’t do it, okay? Promise me?”

She felt tears stinging her eyes at the guilt that she’d almost just made him risk his livelihood, possibly even his life, for the sake of her curiosity. Thank goodness she’d come to her senses. Lleran was her best friend. She would not risk him for anything.

He looked back at her and his face softened. He leaned forward and kissed her again, harder this time, taking her face in both his hands and then running them through her hair. She tilted her head back and let him take her, more than she usually would. Her mouth opened up under the pressure from his and she couldn’t fight the little noise that escaped her as his hand raked down her hair and rested on her throat, his thumb pressing into the soft, vulnerable spot every assassin knew. Buttercake scrambled down off of her lap as he leaned further into her and over her.

They kissed for a minute or two, but eventually, as she always did, she pulled back. Despite what he said, she refused to make the mistake again of desiring her best friend. She found him attractive, charming, skilled, intelligent, and interesting. And there was once when she would have been all too happy to take him to her bed for a few weeks. But then she would tire of him and things would be awkward. She would not risk that. Men she slept with always felt disposable. She did not want to feel that way about him. He was worth more to her than sex. She did not think he recognized that it was a sign of her deep affection for him that she refused to do more than kiss him occasionally. And that only to feel the closeness between them.

He sighed when she drew back, and rested his forehead against hers for a second. She gave him the time to collect himself, to compose his expression into one that said he did not care that she would not do more. At last he raised his head and smiled at her.

“My dear. You’ve got me interested myself. I’ll do what I can, within reason.”

“Lleran, don’t. Please don’t take any risks. There’s no reason to rock the boat.”

“I won’t. I know how far I can go. I’ll see what I can find. Forget it for now. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Alright. But...be careful. You’re worth more to me. Like I said.”

He nodded, looking like he wanted to say more. But instead he stood up, yawning. 

“Take the bed,” he told her. I’m so tired I could sleep on the floor and be fine. The couch will feel like a feather mattress after some of the places I’ve slept recently.”

“Absolutely not. You take the bed. I’m sleeping on the couch. You’re exhausted. You look run down. If you argue…” she paused because he was beginning to interrupt, insist she take the bed.

“If you argue I swear I’ll go sleep at the inn.”

He held up his hands in surrender. 

“Alright! I know when I’m beat. But take this.” He threw her a pillow and began stripping off his clothes. She looked away and began taking off what little armor she wore. As soon as she lay down on the couch Buttercake jumped up on her and turned in circles like a cat. The guar settled herself on Evenstar’s stomach. 

Lleran blew out the last candle and she lay in the dark. But sleep would not come. She lay for hours, gazing out of Lleran’s enormous windows at the two moons traversing the sky. She listened to his soft snores, to the guar’s snuffles, to the sound of insects outside, to her own repeated sighs.

Again and again she pictured the Redoran man laying on the ground, blood running like a river down the brown leather of the saddle he was slumped across. His expression was surprised, like so many of them were. What was it that had seemed familiar? How could she have known him? Could he have been a friend of her father? But no, he was too young for that. Had she seen him through work? She felt certain she hadn’t, she’d not had much work in Vvardenfell itself and those couple of contracts were not Redoran. Could she have seen him in town? It was always possible, and that explanation seemed the most likely, but somehow it just felt wrong. She hadn’t really recognized him, it was more that he looked familiar. Maybe he looked like someone else she knew? Someone from her past?

Her past; that tickled something in her brain. Yes, someone she used to know. She turned it around and around in her head. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. Buttercake squawked and fell to the floor but Evenstar didn’t notice. She had it! The man...a little boy...he’d had big feet, and a fat bottom. Vivec City. The docks. He used to push her around, push her down. A bully of a boy who had stolen her food, more than once. A rich boy who lived in a big house. I can’t catch him she’d told Cracks-The-Claws. Patience, he had told her. A Redoran boy. He’d grown up to be a Redoran man; a general, a leader. She’d slit his throat today. She’d forgotten him. She’d forgotten him entirely. And now he was dead at her hand.

She felt poleaxed. It was just so hard to accept. She had killed 49 people in her life, the vast majority for work, a very few for her own safety. None had she ever killed for personal revenge. Or dislike. Of course, she had not killed this Redoran man for revenge either, but why did it feel like she had? Why did it feel personal? It hadn’t been, she assured herself. But she felt sick to her stomach. If she had known, would she still have done it? And then the realization: someone had known it. Velorian had known. This was what she had meant. Had Evenstar enjoyed killing the man who had tormented and bullied her as a child? How had she known? How could anyone have known? It was inconceivable. 

Evenstar sat rocking back and forth on the couch. It made no sense. No sense. How would the Tong know about that? Why would they care? Had Cracks told someone when they arrested him? But why? Why? Surely the man himself would not have told anyone. She wasn’t sure he had even known her name. It was such a small thing, and so so long ago. How could it have any bearing on now? And why would it worry Velorian?

Almost, she wished that she hadn’t told Lleran not to look into it. Not really, obviously the same dangers applied. But she felt certain now that the answers were not trivial. Her instinct had told her there was something here, and there was. Absolutely. But she still could not risk him. And there was only a small chance that he could find out the truth anyway. There was no chance of Velorian answering if asked about it. Evenstar didn’t even know where else to begin a search. She was at a dead end before even beginning. And that was how the Morag Tong operated. No questions asked, no answers given. She had known that. She must be content with it now.

But Evenstar was not good at being content. And right now she felt as jumpy as a jerboa. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t sit, she couldn’t be still. But she also could not do anything. There was literally no action she could take. She felt so twisted that finally she walked over to Lleran’s cabinet and poured herself a glass of wine. Maybe she could drink herself to a more peaceful state of mind.

“Evie?” Lleran called to her sleepily from his bed. “What’s happening? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m alright, go back to sleep.”

But he sat upright and began fumbling for a match to light the candle next to his bed. She heard the strike and sizzle, then his angular face flickered into view. His hair was tousled and his eyes shadowed.

“Are you drinking in the middle of the night? Gracious. I hope it’s not the Goldvine 582, I was saving that. You know, for a time when I’m conscious.”

“It’s not the Goldvine. I’m sorry I woke you. I just can’t sleep. I’m too stirred up. But I’ll be quiet. Please, go back to sleep.”

“What are you stirred up about?” He still sounded sleepy, but he was watching her alertly. We never can relax, she thought wryly. 

“The Velorian thing,” she admitted. “I remembered how I know the man, the mark.”

“Oh? Tell me. But not from there. Come here.” He patted the bed. 

She hesitated, but it was late, she was cold, it was dark and she was feeling scared and upset and alone and confused and the wine was already rolling over mind her like a warm fog. She wanted to snuggle him. To feel another human close to her. It had been so long. So long. She got into bed with him, but sat up with her back against the wall.

He pulled the covers up over them and slid close to her. But he didn’t touch her, just sat next to her listening while she talked.

“You’re right, of course,” he said when she finished. “There is something here. But Evie,” he sat up and turned towards her. “I ask you, are you sure you really want to know?”

She opened her mouth to answer but he held up his hand.

“Stop. Think about this for a moment. Is there anything that you could learn that would make you happy? I don’t know what this is. But I have a bad feeling about it. It’s not good, Evie. There’s no way it’s good. It’s the Tong, and it’s secrets, and lies, and manipulations, and your past, and I’m asking you to think very carefully. Will you be happier knowing? Because lately you’ve seemed happy to me. Happier than ever before. I think about you when you came here three years ago. You vibrated with nervous, unhappy energy. You are very different now, do you know that? And even though you’d be even happier if you were to fall for me, and let me make sweet and extremely competent love to you every day, I think you are as happy as you have ever been. So take some time and think about this before you answer.”

She did. She sat, staring down at her hands atop the covers. What he said was true, all of it. Whatever the Tong was hiding, she was unlikely to like it. Could she keep going though, knowing they were hiding things from her? Her stomach still felt funny. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had killed the Redoran man for her own reasons. Velorian’s suggestion that she might like it, the idea that the Tong knew about her childhood, it was all swirling around in her head and her heart and her guts. Suddenly she felt like she might break apart. 

“Lleran?”

“Yes?”

“Can I stay here with you?”

“Where?”

“In the bed. I mean, is that okay? If I stay with you? I don’t want to be alone.”

“You,” he said, already gathering her into his arms, “are always welcome,” he kissed her head and blew out the candle “in my bed.”

Chapter Eight

Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Two months later found Evenstar in southern Deshaun. She was doing surveillance today, preparing for a kill she needed to make within the next twenty-four hours. Writs handed out by the Morag Tong were simple. The Master, in this case Velorian, handed the assigned agent a piece of paper (sometimes Lleran did this if Velorian was busy) with three pieces of information upon it: a name, a place, and a date. For the writ to be fulfilled; the kill must be made on the designated person, found at the specified place, by the date indicated. Rarely, there was a note included, seize papers found on person, search room for an item, hide body, etc. But this writ was basic and straightforward. She needed to kill Yavinia Tervayn, by tomorrow. Yavinia was older, walked with a limp, and lived alone. The writ had been handed to her a week ago. And yet Yavinia was still alive.

Why?

Evenstar could not explain it.. She had been watching the woman for five days. Yavinia rarely left the house, took at least one nap a day, and had not had a visitor for the entire time Evenstar had been watching. But she was still alive.

Why?

Every morning for the past three days Evenstar had decided to kill her that day. Every night she’d gone home without doing it. It wasn’t that she cared about the woman. As a matter of fact Evenstar felt that she didn’t like her. The woman was rich, entitled, and probably intolerable. But who knew? And that was the crux of it; because it wasn’t Evenstar. No, Evenstar had no idea. She didn’t know who this woman was, why she was wanted dead, by whom, or why she deserved to die. Perhaps she didn’t deserve to die. Perhaps Evenstar did not feel like killing her just because she was told to. Perhaps she was tired of dealing out death with no judgment. 

It wasn’t that she minded the killing. Death would come to all, and Evenstar administered it quickly and painlessly. Nor did it bother her to wield the knife. But it bothered her that she was asked not to think. It bothered her that the decision to kill was taken from her, and that she was not trusted with the motive, only the crime. It reminded her of times as a child when she had asked her father “why” and he responded “because I said so.” She had not liked it then, and she was suddenly finding that she did not like it now.

But that was a problem. Because the Morag Tong did not answer questions, require its employees to think--at least beyond how to kill--or tolerate failure or insubordination. And Evenstar had known this before joining. It hadn’t bothered her at the time. What had changed?

It was that she doubted now. She doubted the Morag Tong. She had always known that they were keeping secrets, but she hadn’t thought much about what they might be. Now she wondered a great deal about them. Because among other things, they were about her. What did the Tong know? How? What were they doing with the information? Manipulating her, among other things. And if they had done it once, they had likely done it more than once. And she didn’t like it. 

Why should she kill this woman? Was she being manipulated again? Why should she be their unquestioning agent of death one moment longer?

Because she had no other choice. She sat on the ground, watching Yavinia’s house from the edge of the wheat field nearby and reminding herself of this. She had no option except to kill the woman and report back to the Shalk by tomorrow. It had to be done and there was no point in delay. Evenstar did not want to even consider what they would do if she simply refused to fulfill the writ. And she certainly did not value Yavinia’s life above her own, she was still too much of a dockrat for that kind of nobility of spirit. And of course, if she didn’t do it, pleaded injury, illness, or some other barely acceptable reason, the Tong would simply assign someone else to the job. She would not save Yavinia’s life by walking away. And she did not care about saving Yavinia’s life, did she? An assassin did not care about such things. Feeling disgusted with herself, Evenstar squinted at the house again. It was Yavinia’s naptime. No more excuses.

She rose, stretched, and jogged quickly across the field to the door. She was passable at picking locks, and this was not a difficult one. She had it open in less than thirty seconds. She stepped in and closed the door quietly. She moved carefully, no need to rush. Haste caused accidents. Across the hall and up the stairs she crept. She heard nothing. At the top, a right to Yavinia’s room. Yes, there she was, asleep, her silver hair unbound from the bun she usually wore. Evenstar slipped in and crossed on silent feet to the bed.

The old woman’s skin looked papery thin, Her thin eyebrows were starkly white against her green skin. One frail hand rested on top of the quilt. She breathed in and out quietly, slowly. Evenstar stood looking down at her, anger bubbling up inside. Lleran had sent her a message on the same day she had gotten this writ: I have info. Do you want to know? She had not answered yet. She had no answer. She was angry at herself, for suddenly asking questions she’d never cared about before. She was angry at Velorian, at Lleran, and the nameless, faceless Grand Master of the Morag Tong for thinking her a gullible slave to their whims. She was mad at this foolish old woman who had made some unknown coward angry enough to want her dead. She was mad at the unknown coward for his remorseless cruelty. She was mad at the sun and the two moons and Nirn itself. 

Fuck it all, and the Tribunal and the divines, and all the gods and heavens and the daedra in Oblivion.

She leaned forward and slit Yavinia’s throat with a savage slash. 

Then she turned and walked out of the room while the old woman choked to death on her own blood.

Chapter Nine

She sent a message to Lleran, unsigned. 

I want to know.

One week later he came to her door in the middle of the night. She wasn’t sleeping, she rarely could anymore. But she was lying in bed thinking when there came a soft knock. She slithered out of bed and into a crouch, grabbing a knife and positioning herself to the side of the door. 

“Evie?” Came the soft voice of Lleran. “Don’t stab me. I want to talk to you.”

She unlocked the door and let him in.

“What? Is something wrong? Why are you here in the middle of the night?”

He gestured her aside and stepped quickly in, shutting the door immediately.

“I don’t want to be seen here. I put about that I was going to Stonefall and I intend to, as soon as we speak.”

“Lleran, you’re scaring me. What? Is it that bad?” Her heart was pounding.

He put his face into his hands for a few seconds. Finally he looked at her, and his face was anguished.

“Evie, gods. You were right. You were so right. There was something. Something enormous. I never thought...I can’t believe it. And I shouldn’t tell you. It’s my life. And yours. But I couldn’t not tell you, if you wanted to know. Though I hoped you wouldn’t. And you may wish you didn’t, after I tell you. Evie, you must, must not do anything about this. You know that, right? You cannot betray by word or action that you know. And that will be hard. Very hard.”

“What? Oh, I’m shaking. Is it terrible? What? Tell me, I have to know now!”

He took her hand and pulled her to the bed, seating himself on it and pulling her down to sit next to him.

“Promise me,” he demanded. “Promise that you will do nothing. There is nothing that can be done.”

“I promise.”

He sighed and looked down. 

“You deserve to know this.” He seemed to be trying to convince himself.

“Lleran I’m going to freak out if you don’t tell me right now.”

“Evenstar. What is your last name? Why have I never heard it?”

“What? It’s Ularon. Lleran spill it right now! Who cares about my last name?”

“The Morag Tong do. Because your last name is not Ularon, it’s Telvanni. You are the daughter of one of the most powerful mages in Tamriel.”

“No, I’m not! That’s absurd. My father was a woodworker. He made furniture. Basic stuff. Tables and stools. He didn’t even make staves, wouldn’t ever even try. He said magic was dangerous.”

“And he had good reason to say that. He was a master wizard, as was your mother...until she was killed by a rival for power, and your father took you and fled from Port Telvannis.”

“My mother? But...she died in childbirth.”

“She died from poison. And your father feared for your safety. Her death broke him, it was said. He gave up magic forever. Moved to the mainland. Lived under an alias. Until someone hired the Tong to kill him.”

“The Tong?”

“Yes. This was the part I wanted most to keep from you. The Morag Tong killed your father.”

“But...why?”

He laughed grimly.

“Because someone hired them to do it Evie!”

“Why would someone want him dead? Or my mother?”

He took her hand and held it tight.

“I don’t know. You know the Tong doesn’t ask questions like that. Or if they did, the answers aren’t written in the file. They were hired and paid, and they fulfilled the writ. Well, they tried. And almost succeeded.”

“What do you mean? They did. I promise you, he’s dead.”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them, she saw tears in them.

“This writ had a proviso. Terathon Telvanni, aka Ranis Ularon, was to be killed, made to look a suicide. His daughter was to be taken, framed as a runaway, and blamed for his decision to end his life.”

“I was to be taken? Given to who?”

He didn’t answer.

“Who? Lleran who? There was a name in that file. I know it.”

“Baby, no. I won’t tell you.”

“You will!” her voice rose. “You will tell me right now! RIght now Lleran!”

“Evie you cannot challenge these people. Telvanni Master Wizards? With a knife? I won’t tell you. I know you, you won’t rest until you kill them. But you can’t! I can’t! None of us can. Do you know what your father did, before he died? Do you know why you weren’t taken? Why that writ has never been considered fulfilled? He killed the Morag Tong assassin. With no staff, with no weapon of any kind. He called a lightning bolt from the sky and electrocuted his killer. He’d been hit from behind, knocked practically unconscious, and he killed the man instantly. If he hadn’t been sawing wood, making noise, if he’d heard the man, I doubt he could have been taken at all. He was not on guard, after eight years of safety. But even so he saved his daughter, a second time. The second assassin, because yes, they sent two--and no I’ve never seen that happen before--finished the job, your father was barely alive, he’d been hit very hard. But there was so much commotion, the lightning bolt, noise, that the other Tong ran, and didn’t take you. He looked, but you weren’t easy to find I guess. And he was too spooked to stay longer. And he paid for that mistake. They didn’t kill him, but he was banished to Vounoura. And never heard from again.”

She was quiet.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, bleakly. But she did. She believed every word of it.

“I know. It’s...just hard to conceive. Secrets and lies, Evie. That’s what the Tong is.”

“So why am I still here then? They found me, don’t they want to fulfill their writ?” she asked bitterly.

“Well that’s the very last piece of it. They would have. There’s a copy of the letter they sent the customer. It asks if they still want you, ten years later. The customer said no. They had wanted you for your potential power. But since you apparently have none…”

“Says who?” she bristled, though she had no idea if she did. 

“Said the Tong. They reported that you worked for the Dark Brotherhood and carried a knife. Didn’t even own a destruction staff. Yes, they knew about you back then. And in searching for you, they turned up someone they took an interest in hiring. Twists and turns.”

They sat together in silence. She turned her face into his shoulder. She couldn’t stand it. There was so much. How could she deal with this? She began to cry. In earnest. Great heaving sobs, uncontrollable tears, the anguish of a small child losing a father and a grown women finding and losing him again. He turned and pulled her head into his chest and held her. She cried for a long time, clutching him.

Eventually she wore herself out and stood up, wiping her eyes and nose. Lleran stood up too.

“You’re not going to Stonefall, are you.” It wasn’t a question, she already knew.

“No. Well, I am. To lay a track. But I’ll leave soon after. I’ll have to keep moving. They won’t stop looking.”

“They caught you.”

“Yes. Partially. They know I was in the files. But Evie, they don’t know what I was looking for. They don’t know what I saw, what I know. Or what I’ve told you. You are still safe.”

“As if I can keep going, knowing this.”

“Evie, you have to. This is what I was saying. They will not stop looking, ever. I will have to run forever. And you will too, if you go.”

“I don’t give a fuck for the Morag Tong, let them chase me. And you. Let’s run away together.”

He looked shocked.

“No! Evie, please! Stay here. You’ll be safe. I’m older, I’ve done my time. I have money. I’m okay giving this up. I’ll enjoy a new adventure. But you...this is your life.”

“You’re crazy if you think I want this life now, after what you just told me. I’ll never kill for the Tong again. I swear it this minute, Lleran. Never. Tonight I walk. For good. I’ll come with you.”

He looked at her and smiled. But she saw the answer in his face.

“No. I won’t let you. You’re young, you’re not in love with me, and I think, despite my best advice to you, that you have plans of your own now. And I’ll be living hard for the next little while. Take my advice: stay here for a while. They don’t know. You have time to make plans. So that if you run, when you run, you’re ready. I go tonight. This very minute. But listen, if you need me, ever, a message to Fedrasa at the Ebony Flask in Ebonheart will find me eventually.”

“Fedrasa?”

“My sister. And that information risks her life too. Evie, you are smart. I won’t tell you to be smart because I know you will be. But please, don’t make rash decisions. Think this through. A life on the run? Is that what you really want? Never to be safe again? Never to rest easy? Never to have a family, because you will always worry? Think of your father, he ran...and they found him. Living in secret, changing your name...that’s what’s in store for you. Just please take some time before you decide. I know you are angry at the Tong, but remember that no matter how it feels, this wasn’t done to you. They were hired, and they did a job. Impersonal. You’ve killed dozens of people. Exactly the same. This feels very personal to you, but it wasn’t. The Tong didn’t set out to ruin your life.”

“But they did. And it makes me wonder...how many have I ruined? Or you? We kill someone because they tell us to. And it’s like casting a stone into a pond. We only stand watching long enough to see the initial splash. But there are ripples. And they spread to the very edges of the pond. The Tong killed my father and made me homeless. I lived under a dock, Lleran. Until they came looking for me. Because that’s what I think now: the Tong tried to take me from the docks. They sent the City Guard after me. And that was the first kill I ever made. I stabbed a guard through the eye. And I ran. And that set me on a path to where I am right now. The Tong didn’t just find an assassin, they created an assassin.”

She turned away for a second, then turned back.

“What have you and I created?” she asked softly. “Poverty? Homelessness? Starvation? Families torn apart? People’s lives ruined? Criminals created by necessity? Motherless children? Or childless mothers? Lleran it makes me sick to think about.”

“Evie...you can’t think like that.”

“I can! I should! If anyone has taught me that, it’s you! You’re the one who said we have to hold on to our humanity. I thought I’d made myself hard enough to live this life. But now I’m not so sure. And you’re a big part of that. I let you in, I let you close. I felt, and I wanted, and I needed. I tried not to, but it happened anyway. You, Cici...even that dead Redoran that used to hit me. People matter. I’ve realized that. And now I can’t go back to the way I used to be. I used to not care! But I’m seeing this so clearly now. And I can’t do it for one more day. It’s not just anger at the Tong, Lleran. It’s realizing that I don’t want to kill anymore. Unless I have a really good reason. I don’t want to set any more little girls on the path that someone set me on. Because this isn’t a good path. It tears your soul. And once upon a time I thought that didn’t bother me. But it does. I feel broken! Am I broken, Lleran? Am I redeemable? 50 people. That’s how many I’ve killed. Who could ever love me now? I’m a bad person. And the Morag Tong is evil. And I quit. It’s not good enough, it never will be. But it’s all I can do.”

They stood looking at each other.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

“I know. I am too.”

“You are not unredeemable.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“It’s true though. No one is unredeemable. Especially not you. You are special. If only you’d believe me. I would have, you know. Loved you.”

“You have loved me. And I’ve loved you. And if I am fixable, it’s because of you. You never would let me be as hard as I wanted to be. If there’s a path back, it’s because you set me on it. I’m grateful to you for it. And for giving me the truth. I know what it’s costing you.”

“Nothing. Nothing that matters. Except you.”

He moved quickly, throwing his arms around her and pulling her hard towards him, crushing her against his chest. Then just as quickly he released her and turned for the door, slinging his pack over his shoulder.

“Good luck,” he told her, looking back.

“Good luck,” she whispered.

And then he was gone.

Chapter Ten

She thought for a long time about what he had said. He had given her the truth, and some very good advice, at great cost to himself. She would not throw away his sacrifice with rash action. But she also knew the Morag Tong. They might not know what he had been looking for, or what he had found. But there would be suspicion. And some of it would fall on her. They knew of her relationship with Lleran. They would be looking for a sign that he had told her something. And so she must move carefully.

She had been telling the truth when she said she would not kill for them again. Her time as an assassin was over. But she had a little time left before she had to give the Tong that bit of info. And she must use that time wisely. She must plan. Where she would go, what she would do, how she would accomplish it. And, of course, the most difficult question: who it would involve. Lleran had refused to give her a name. She had no idea the identity of her mother’s killers, or her father’s. Was it the same person? Did one person administer poison to her mother, then hire the Morag Tong to kill her father? Or was it two completely different people? Did they have the same purpose? Or disparate ones?

Evenstar was desperate to get the truth of the situation. But the fact was that it was not the time for that. First, she had to concentrate on escaping and evading the Tong. If she ran, they would suspect the reasons behind it. And they would look for her to fetch up in Port Telvannis looking for her parent’s killers. She would be caught and killed. No, her hunt for the guilty parties would have to wait until the Tong’s search for her had ended, or at least quieted. As Lleran had said, it would likely never end completely. But even the Tong would get bored of searching eventually. They would only be willing to devote manpower to the task for so long. She must wait them out. And when she finally did journey to Port Telvannis, it must be as a totally different person.

Three nights after Lleran had departed by moonlight, Evenstar strolled down to the docks at midnight. She had come on a specific errand, but as she walked along the shore, she slowed, gave in to impulse, and turned aside and underneath the Vivec City docks. 

It smelled the same. Rotting seaweed, damp timber, tar, rank fish...the potent combination pulled her immediately back to those months as a child she had spent living underneath these docks. There was the piling she had slept behind. Here was where Cracks had liked to build his fire. There the spot she had cut her hand on barnacles. Here the spot the guards had grabbed her the night she had almost been caught. That night. She had thought much about it in the past few days. Clearly the Morag Tong had told the city guard to keep an eye out for her. If they had known where she was for sure they would have come themselves. But they had not. And the guard had been fixated on apprehending the old Argonian that night. They had let her slip away. 

How much would have been different if that had not been the case? The Tong would have handed her over to whomever had hired them to kill her father. Would her own fate have been death at those same hands? Or had they meant to do something else with her? Enslave her? Train her and hope to control her? They had wanted her because of her power, Lleran had said. What might her life have been?

Cracks-the-Claws had saved her that night. As she thought over that night, she acknowledged that he had not tried to escape. He had tried only to buy her time to run. Perhaps he had assumed that he could not evade the guards forever. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he had simply chosen to trade his freedom for hers. What she had not seen as a child, she forced herself to recognize now, as an adult. Cracks-the-Claws had traded his life for hers.

And what had she done with that life? Thirteen years had passed since the day she had watched them drag Cracks away in chains. In thirteen years she had managed to make and lose two friends, find and leave two careers, and murder fifty people, the vast majority for no reason other than money. She had done no good. Enriched no lives. Contributed nothing but sorrow. She had put down no roots. Owned practically nothing. Knew practically no one. She was cold, a killer. Feared. She had slept with no one since joining the Morag Tong. With Lleran now fled, because of things she had asked him to do, she was alone. Utterly alone. 

By any standard, it seemed that Cracks had made a poor bargain with his life. He had bought her opportunity and she had squandered it.

But that would end now.

Evenstar ducked out from under the dock and walked the rest of the way around the point. She climbed up upon the pier that jutted into the harbor and walked out to the very furthest point. She stood for a minute, staring out across the water, thinking of life and love and regret and forgiveness. And second chances. Then she reached for her knife. It drew flawlessly out of the sheath, just as it had every time. For a second she held it in her grip, considering the familiar feel of it against her palm. Then she hurled it out over the water. There was a quick flash, a glint of moonlight on steel, then a splash. Gone.

The next morning she walked into the city and bought a lightning staff. It was time to discover her true potential.

Evenstar considered the staff from across the room. She was sitting on her bed, watching it as if it were a sleeping serpent. It was simple enough to buy a destruction staff. Even though she had felt as if she were committing some sort of crime, in reality it had taken under a minute and the seller had looked rather bored during the transaction. She had been unsure of what to expect when she held it in her hand. Would it feel awkward? Or would there be some sort of instant affinity? Now, after the fact, she ruefully admitted to herself that she had been hoping for the latter. If she was really the daughter of Telvanni mages, she had rather thought there might be an immediate indication of innate talent. But birds had not swooped down from above when she gripped it. Music had not echoed down from the heavens. Amalexia had not appeared with her slutty outfit and her divine light to bless Evenstar. There hadn’t even been sparks shooting from the staff or a feeling of warmth in her hand. No, it just felt like a stick, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, neither familiar nor unfamiliar. 

Right, then. She would not manifest as a master wizard without work. Of course. A silly idea. But how would she learn this? She was positive that she could. And likely she had talent of her own that she did not know. But how to discover it? She could not seek out the help she needed in Vivec City. The Tong was everywhere. And they could not see her learning to use magic, it would be a red flag. No, practice with this would need to wait until she ran. So the next order of business was to decide where that would be.

She went back and forth in her head on this. Should she go far? As far as possible? Or stay close? Because surely they would expect her to flee as far as possible. Should she invent a new identity and live openly? Or should she go into hiding, lay low for a time? What was the best way to minimize the danger? How long did she need to worry? Where had Lleran gone, could she find him? Would he let her live with him? Did she want to?

And Cici. The desire had been growing in her to see her friend again. She could not stay in Anvil, no. But she could pass through for the night, see Cecile again. She owed her best friend many things: apologies, explanations. After all this time, the idea of seeing Cici again still made her nervous. And excited. What would happen? Would Cici hate her? Would she refuse to talk to her? Could Evenstar face the very real possibility that Cici would not want to be her friend anymore?

These thoughts and worries chased each other around in her head while she sat staring at the staff. After a time, she got up and left her apartment, letting her feet take her where they would while her mind gnawed at questions with no answers.

Eventually she found herself at the tavern. It was the late afternoon and the bar was mostly empty. A tall man, an Imperial, sat at a corner table. He made her uncomfortable, old memories rising up in her mind, and she turned away from him towards the counter. A young woman sat there, chin propped on one hand, staring into the middle distance while she clasped an empty wine glass with her other. She was small, Evenstar saw. Tiny even. She had red hair, like Evenstar’s own. Her perfect, oval face might have been prim if there hadn’t been something sensual about her mouth. It was turned down at the corner now, as the girl looked unhappily at her own empty glass, but if she were to smile...suddenly Evenstar found herself wondering how it would feel to kiss her, to feel those expressive lips open under her own. The girl’s slim figure, covered disappointingly demurely by an elegant and expensive-looking blue dress was so slight that Evenstar felt large in comparison. But though she was tiny, there was something about her that made Evenstar feel sure that the girl would be full of fire, this was no delicate flower of a woman. 

She shook herself. What had come over her? She had not felt a beat like that in a long time. And perhaps never for a woman. Except Cici. And she had never recognized it for what it was with Cici. But then, so many other things were changing in her life now, perhaps this would too. Maybe her heart was waking up. It would be nice to desire someone again, feel her blood run hot. To lay next to someone and feel their warm breath on her neck. Would it be a woman? Was she ready for that? She did not quite feel that she was. But either way she must move now. She had been standing too long looking not to walk over and seat herself.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked the girl, indicating the chair next to her.

“Go ahead,” said the girl. “But I’m not very good company.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m a love-sick idiot who can’t get over a man I saw one time and never spoke to. And so I have to come down to the bar in the afternoon and drink myself into forgetting him.”

A man. Of course she was into men. All the pretty ones were, it seemed.

“Does it work?”

“Not really.”

“Too bad. I was hoping to drink myself into forgetting something similar.”

“A man?”

“A woman.”

The girl’s perfect eyebrows climbed up her smooth forehead.

“A girl? Your friend? Or….”

“Yes.”

“Which?”

“Both. A friend, my best friend. But I wanted her. Oh yes, I wanted her.”

“And did you…?”

“No. She offered. I was scared. I ran.”

“Me too,” said the girl, bitterly. “And now...who knows.”

“My name is Evenstar.”

“Little Greenleaf.”

“Do you live in town?” 

“I’m staying with a friend. She lives north of town. You?”

“I do. But I’m moving.” Of course, this was a terribly foolish thing to say. The girl could be a Morag Tong operative. But Evenstar’s instinct told her otherwise. This pretty, young thing might be a handful. But Evenstar did not think her dangerous. At least, not in that way. Maybe in other ways. For one thing, she’d woken something in Evenstar that had slept for a long time. 

“When are you moving?”

“As soon as I decide where to move.”

Evenstar caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a drink. She threw it back quickly and set it down. He poured her another. Little Greenleaf watched her with wide green eyes.

“You are trying to forget something.”

“So many things.”

“And what are you running from, if you don’t mind me asking? So desperately that you’re ready to go before you even know where you are going.”

Evenstar thought for a moment, then said, 

“The Morag Tong.”

Silence.

A minute or two passed.

“Well you didn’t get up and leave at least,” Evenstar said at last.

“Is the Morag Tong after you?” the girl asked. Fear was all over her face.

“Probably. They will be as soon as I run. I work for them you see.”

The girl stood up quickly, tripped on the stool and started to fall backwards. Evenstar grabbed her by the forearm and hauled her back up. They collided for a moment and Evenstar felt the girl’s small breasts press against her.

“Careful! Are you alright?”

“Fine, yes. I’m so clumsy. Sorry, but...Morag Tong? You? A killer? That’s a bit unnerving. Drinking with a killer. And why did you tell me? And why are they going to kill you if you work for them? And...should we be talking about this here?” Suddenly the girl glanced around nervously.

“No. Emphatically no. We shouldn’t. Look, I know we just met and you don’t know anything about me except that I’m an assassin and into girls and I do shots in the afternoon, but would you like to come back with me to my apartment?”

“Are you inviting me home to talk to or to sleep with?”

Did the girl looked genuinely interested in either answer, or was that just her own wishful thinking?

“To talk. Maybe to drink.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, good. I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“I do think you’re hot. Is that what you’re thinking? I couldn’t stop looking at you when I came in.”

Little Greenleaf blushed prettily. Goodness she was a beautiful, perfect thing.

“Thank you. But no. I mean, yes. I’ll come. Not to sleep with you. I know you don’t want to. I mean...never mind.”

“I do want to. A bit. But...I haven’t with anyone in over three years. And I’m moving. And I’m an assassin. And you’re in love with a man you’ve never met. And you’re not into girls.”

“And I’m a virgin,” the girl added.

“Right. Me too. Of course. Not really. Not at all in fact. But it’s been so long it’s like I’m re-virgined. Is that a thing?”

They looked at each other and smiled.

“Let’s go,” said Evenstar.

Back at the house Evenstar told her some of it. Not all, but much of it. 

“Gods. That’s a lot. And your friend...the man. So heartbreaking. Your father. What a waste. What a terrible waste. Gods Evenstar, what a mess. And you, what will you do?”

“Run. Reinvent myself. Train as a wizard. Go back to Telvannis and find who hired to Tong to ruin my life. Find the reason.”

“Kill them?”

“Maybe. I said I was done with killing. But if they are evil...maybe it’s my duty.”

“And you’ve never even used this staff? asked Little Greenleaf, running her fingers down it. “You don’t even know how? What of your own magic?” 

Evenstar shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done any. My father told me magic was dangerous. He said I didn’t have any and that he was glad.”

“Everyone has magic!” protested the girl.

“I suppose you’re right. But I don’t know where mine is.”

“Inside you. You just have to unlock it.”

“Easier said than done.”

Suddenly the girl stood up and came quite close to Evenstar. 

“May I?” she asked, and put her hands gently on Evenstar’s shoulders.

What was she doing? Evenstar fought an urge to step backwards. She was attracted to the girl, but scared still. And she had not thought for a minute that Little Greenleaf would make a move like this. But maybe that wasn’t what she was trying to do. Besides resting her hands gently on Evenstar’s shoulders, the girl did nothing. Evenstar shifted nervously.

“Shhh, don’t move.”

Little Greenleaf closed her eyes. Her hands seemed to glow. Evenstar felt surrounded by warm light. What was happening? Magic, clearly.

Then it was over, the light dimmed, the girl raised her hands and stepped backward. The place where she had touched Evenstar felt cold without the warmth of her hands. 

“I tried to heal you,” Little Greenleaf told her. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I didn’t really think there was. Sometimes when I heal people though, I get a glimpse of what’s inside them.”

“And did you see something in me?” Evenstar asked curiously.

“Not really. Not clearly. You’re hard to read. But...go like this.” She made a strange gesture, like sweeping things off a table in front of her.

Evenstar mimicked her, feeling silly.

“Was something supposed to happen?”

“Maybe. Do it again. For real. And concentrate.”

“On what?”

“On bringing something forth.”

“What?”

“Don’t overthink it. Just do it.”

Evenstar tried again. Nothing happened.

“You’re not really trying.”

“How can I try when I don’t know what I’m attempting to do?”

“You’re attempting to summon a creature. Try again. Like this.”

Evenstar made the strange gesture again, concentrating on bringing something into being. And this time it caught. That was the only way to describe it. As she reached for something, it caught. And suddenly a creature was in front of her. It was enormous, with large wings and feet dangling bare a few inches above the ground as it flapped. It glowed bluish. It was hideously ugly and frighteningly real.

Evenstar gave a surprised yelp and jumped backwards. The thing winked out of existence, leaving a slight trace of sulphur in the air, rather like the smell of volcanic steam.

“Did you see that?” she shrieked. She felt giddy. She had created that thing.

“I did. As I thought. You’re a sorcerer. A summoner. You can call forth daedra and control them. They will fight for you.”

“Daedra? That thing was a daedra?”

“Yes. A twilight matriarch I believe.”

“Unbelievable. I can’t believe I just did that. How did you know?”

“I didn’t know. But I felt something in you that was familiar. My father was a sorcerer. He didn’t summon daedra, but I felt a kindred magic in you. You can call storms as well. Harness lightning. I think you could be quite powerful.”

“You can teach me?”

“No. I can’t. I know nothing of that magic.”

“You aren’t a sorcerer?”

“Me? Oh no. Look.” She waved an arm and a huge and slavering bear reared into existence. It roared at Evenstar, then moved close to Little Greenleaf.

“I’m a warden.”

“By the three!” Evenstar edged backwards, away from the bear. “That thing’s enormous! It could rip someone’s throat out.”

The girl smiled. 

“Yes, he could.”

Evenstar made the gesture again, tried to summon the matriarch. Nothing. Again and again she tried. But she could not catch hold of whatever she had caught before.

“I don’t know what’s wrong!” she said in frustration at last.

The girl laughed.

“Nothing. Only that you are just beginning. You don’t know how long it took me to learn control. Years. And I had a very stern teacher.” She paused and grimaced. “You’ll find it, it only takes practice. Find a place where you are safe and then you can work on this.”

“Yes. Someplace safe. I need a house. Somewhere they’ll never think of looking.”

“I don’t have a house. But...I do have an idea.”

“Well I’m all ears.”

“I know a man, a Bosmer. His name is Tanavir. He’s what you might call a broker.”

“A broker? Of what?” 

“Of anything one might need, anything at all. But he deals in secrets. In obtaining things people shouldn’t have. Or finding the unfindable. Big things or little things. He’s very expensive. Obscenely expensive. But if you’re looking for discretion along with a property, he might be the elf to talk to. Or if he isn’t, he might know who is. Just a thought.”

“Where is he? How do you know him?”

“Well...I shouldn’t tell you. But you trusted me with your secrets. I’m a spy. I work for the Dominion.”

“But you’re a Breton.”

The girl shrugged.

“You’re a spy. Unbelievable. I would never have thought it of you. You’re so...innocent.”

“Yes, well that’s sort of the point. Who would guess, right?”

“What kind of bad joke are we? A spy and an assassin walk into a bar…”

“And walk out friends?”

“Yes. We did. I wish I’d met you a year ago. Before I was about to be on the run for my life.”

“I wasn’t here till two months ago. But I know what you mean. I could use a friend.”

“Where can I find this Tanavir guy?”

“Here and there. But start at the Thieves Guild in Elden Root. If he isn’t there, someone will be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Thieves Guild, are you a thief too?”

The girl smiled smugly, then reached into her bag and withdrew Evenstar’s coin purse. She passed it over.

“What...when?”

“When I almost fell earlier and you grabbed me.”

“By the three. I never noticed.”

“People almost never do.”

“Little Greenleaf?”

“Call me Leaf.”

“Leaf? I’m glad I met you today. It was a lucky thing that I walked into that bar. I barely know you, but I think you just changed my life.”

The girl laughed, her perfect smile lighting up her face.

“And you helped me put my problems into perspective. I’m glad I met you too. But I’d better get going now. My friend gets weird if I’m gone too late.” She rolled her eyes.

“Good bye then. And good luck. With everything.”

“You too. Take care.” She opened the door and walked out, then turned and looked back at Evenstar, her lovely face hesitant, her red hair glinting in the setting sun. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said. She left the final part unsaid, but Evenstar could fill it in: I hope you figure out what that is.

Chapter Eleven

It came at last the next week, as she had known it would: a new contract from the Morag Tong. The Shalk handed it over as she always did, with few words and no fanfare. But as Evenstar turned away with the sealed scroll in her hand, 

“Wait.”

She looked back, fear flaring up in her.

“You know of course that Lleran is gone.”

Cautious now. “I know he’s away for a while. He told me he was traveling.”

“Is that what you know? I wonder. Well, on the very slim chance that you are telling the truth, Evenstar, let me tell you this: Lleran has left the Morag Tong. A mistake on his part. There is now a contract with his name on it. I’ve handed it to my top ten operatives. Excluding, obviously, yourself. 

“I’d hate to think that a smart and self-preserving young woman like yourself would make the same foolish decision. Whatever he told you, whatever you think you know, it isn’t the whole story. Take my advice. Stay. Do nothing. Fulfill this contract, live your life, drink in the taverns. Study the destruction staff. Take delicate little redheads home to keep you warm.”

Velorian paused and watched Evenstar with her black, insect eyes. Evenstar felt as if her heart had stopped. They knew everything.

Velorian slid open a drawer in her desk and pulled out a small, wrapped parcel. She handed it across the desk to Evenstar, who hesitated a moment before taking it.

“What’s this?” she asked Velorian.

The long fingers drummed slowly on the desk as Velorian considered her. Evenstar unrolled the object from its leather wrappings. A knife. Not her own, but one very like it. It lay cold and heavy in her hand.

Velorian never blinked.

“A last chance,” she said at last.

Evenstar spun and left the room, dropping the knife on the floor as she went.

And now the die was cast. There would be no grace period, no week where they thought her on a job while she was actually on the run. No few days they spent wondering where her allegiance lay while she made progress on a new life lived in hiding. No.

From the second she walked out the door now, she had a target on her back. A price on her head. A clock ticking on her life. Velorian might even have agents stationed outside the door. They could be waiting to grab her and plunge a dagger into her gut the moment she walked out.

Panic rose in her. Her palms were sweating and her heart raced. She had no time. No time to make choices. She must move. She could not return home, not even once. She had to run, and she had to run now.

But she had not wasted the past week. And she still had the reflexes and instincts that had kept her alive for thirteen years on her own. 

Abruptly changing directions, she cut across the downstairs of Velorian’s house and quickly crouched below a window in the kitchen. She waited for a count of thirty, watching for a shadow and listening intently. Nothing. She slid the window up and pulled herself out, landing lightly on her feet. She had picked the window facing north, the shortest distance out of the city. She had left her horse to the south, but they would be watching the horse, looking for her to run south to Vivec City. Which is why she would run north. 

And run she did. Sprinting out of the alley she made as quickly as possible for the main thoroughfare along the canal. She did not think they would risk killing her in broad daylight, that was not the Tong’s way. Reaching the canal she stopped running, but moved as quickly as she could at a walk, trying to seem nonchalant while watching every direction at once. There were people about, but none made a move towards her. Three minutes and she would be out of the city. Calm.

The second she reached the gate she started running again, full out, and as fast as she could go. She didn’t see anyone yet, but they must be there. This would be the easiest time to get her, and Velorian would know it. And this stretch of road would be tricky. It was a narrow valley, hemmed in on the east by mountains and on the west by the lake, then by more hills. Five miles she must make it, then she could cut west, into the wilderness. 

She looked behind her. There they were. There were two. Both men. She recognized one, Ruvanis, she thought his name was. The other was a stranger to her. Both were running after her. She had, perhaps, a 25-yard lead. 

She ran. She ducked her head and ran as fast as she’d ever run. She’d always been a runner. She was tall, fast. Her long legs ate up the road. They would need to be very close to get her, you could not fire a bow while running. And throwing a dagger would be even trickier. She could not let them close on her. Five miles, and she must win the race or die.

On and on she ran. She could not risk looking behind often. If she tripped, if she stumbled and fell, that would be the end of it. She kept her eyes on the road in front of her, praying no animal attacked, no ashlander--for this was their territory--stepped out onto the road to challenge her. Her footfalls blended in her ears with the steps of her pursuers. Were they closer? Further? How long could she go? Her breath rattled in her chest and her lungs protested. But it was run or face the knives of the Morag Tong. She ran.

Minutes passed by, though they felt like hours. Could she run another step? Another after that? Each one felt like a bargain she made with herself. Just this one. Just one more after. She saw the hills to the west grow lower, soon they would be climbable, though she dreaded scrambling up the rocks and bluffs. Another mile perhaps? Was it that close? Maybe further? What if it was two? Could she make it? She had never run so fast in her life. Her breath made a sound like a groan every time she exhaled. Each lungful of air felt like the burn of the volcanic gasses that hissed out of the vents surrounding Red Mountain. 

On she ran. What could she think of, to distract herself? Random thoughts flashed in her brain like lightning. Snips and snaps of her life that she seized at and discarded. Cici? Did she think of Evenstar? Fondly? Or with anger? Should she have done it differently? Climbed atop her friend that night? Touched her...no, no. Something else. Lleran? Where was he? On the run? Did they chase him too? Down this same road she had set them both upon? Don’t think of it. Something else. The Imperial? His look of surprise as the knife slid in. He had held her arms above her head around her wrists. She had worn the bruises like bracelets for two weeks afterwards. Did he have time for an instant of regret before he had died? No, something else. Her father. The Shalk. The Redoran boy. The dead Redoran man. His blood on the saddle. Faces. Dead ones. Fifty of them. Watching her. Wanting her dead. Waiting for her to join them. Run. Run. Run.

On she ran. She risked a quick glance behind. The man she had not known was gone, dropped out of the race, she supposed. She could not see him at all. But Ruvanis was there. He had not gained on her, but she had not gained on him. His eyes were fixed on her. His legs seemed to whip forward. Did he look as tired as she felt? How much longer was he prepared to run? Would he have the strength to finish her if he caught her? Could she fight him? It felt that if she stopped running, she would fall and not move again. Did he feel the same? 

How much did he want her? What was his motivation to chase her? Money? Did he ever have a thought like she did? Did he ever question it? Wish he was out? Maybe they could run away together, he and her. Marry and have children. Would they grow up to be killers? An army of assassins? She was delirious. She wanted to laugh, but all she could manage was a gasp. She would never have children. Why bring an innocent life into a world like this one?

She kept running. How far? Four miles? Five? Twenty-five? Down and down she dug in herself. Beyond the desire to live, was there something else to power her? For now it began to feel that death would be a relief. After all, nothing could hurt once you were dead. And she did hurt so very much. Every breath tore at her. Her chest felt tight, like iron bands were crushing it. Her throat screamed at her and she felt like she was choking. Her legs burned, so that it felt like she was running through a solid substance. The air had thickened, and she had to push it aside with each stride. Her steps began to falter, so that she feared she might set a foot wrong and stumble at any moment. Giving up did not feel like a choice. It was a passive thing. It was more like received information. It had been granted her, like a wish.

Perhaps he would be quick. If she stopped, fell down, could she catch enough breath to request he slit her throat? Would he honor the request if she could make it? She thought he would. One assassin to another. It would be quickest. No more than a minute, and probably less than a minute of actual pain and awareness. Then it was dark, or so she assumed. Peaceful. Easy. Painless. She felt her footsteps begin to slow. It was so appealing. The rest. The end of all bad things.

No. Keep going. 

Why? To what purpose?

To live.

But why? There is no one to care if you do or don’t. You could give up. It would be so easy.

No. There are things I have to do.

What things? Track down your parent’s killers? They might already be dead and gone. And you have no way to find them anyway.

There are other things.

What things?

See Cici again. See Lleran. 

Neither of them cares to see you again. And anyway, they would understand.

They would not want me to give up.

It’s not giving up, it’s doing the right thing. You have nothing to offer the world anyway.

I do. I promise I do.

Says who? 

Such a hard question to answer. She felt her steps slow even more as she searched everywhere for an answer. Lleran had told her she was good, but it somehow didn’t feel like enough. He had wanted to sleep with her. He would say anything to make it happen. No, no he had meant it. She knew he had. But he was one person and gone. And she was here. And so tired. There was nothing left at all.

Cracks-the-Claws.

The name went off like a firecracker in her mind. The old Argonian. He had given her a chance. He hadn’t known what she’d do with it, but he’d given it to her. And she had let him down. But she had made a promise to herself that night when she’d thrown the knife away--and why had she done that? It had been a symbolic gesture, but she was rather wishing she had a weapon now--that she would take this opportunity to ensure his sacrifice was not in vain. 

A promise. An opportunity. She could still get this right. She would do this for him. Patience, he had told her. And maybe his patience in her could still pay off. If she could do this thing, here and now.

She looked behind her. She was moving so slowly now that it was closer to a walk than a run. She could see Ruvanis, but he had dropped back. He was far behind her now. She had not escaped yet. But it was within reach. 

She kept going. She was stumbling. And her vision was blurry. The side of the road loomed up from first one direction, then the other. She concentrated on staying on her feet. Just a little further. Just a little.

The hills were low in the west now. She flung herself towards them with no thought at all except to reach them. She could not go much further. It was not strength of will now that would give out, but her body. She had run so fast, as fast as she could run. She knew she would fall at any time. Just to the hills, she told her legs, just to that ridge. There would be a rock, a tree, something to hide behind. He would be too tired to search well. She could rest a bit. But not till the hills.

Almost there. Almost. Five minutes. Three minutes. She was here. But where to hide? A noise, like a snort. She recognized it almost, but her mind couldn’t make sense of it. Why was that noise here? Was it him? He couldn’t have caught her yet. Why would he snort? Where did it come from? She wanted it though. Whatever it was, it was a good thing. Was it this way?

She blundered upon the horse with a curious feeling. Yes, she had known. The horse would be here. How had she known? This horse, this place, this particular bluff. It was her horse. She did not look around for it’s owner, she was the owner. It was tacked up. Ready. Tied to tree hidden behind a strange rock formation. It was meant to be here. She had put it here. No, not her. But she had known. Yes. If she could just pull herself up upon it, everything would be ok.

An effort. An enormous one. But she was up and she lay forward across its neck and held on. Let it walk where it would. It would take her where she needed to go. She closed her eyes and held on. That was all that was left to do now: just hold on.

She looked back towards shore, at the docks of Gnisis, with a grim and solid sense of triumph. She had beaten them. The match was not yet over. But the first game had gone to Evenstar. She had bested the Morag Tong. She had escaped from Tong headquarters and was safe on a ship to Eastmarch. From there she would make her way to Grahtwood. She would find this elf the girl had mentioned. 

The ship was safe. She knew, because she had chartered it, under a fake name, secretly. The sailors believed they were transporting a noble from the Dres house. And that name was feared everywhere. The few sailors on board refused to even meet her eye. 

All had been done in the week leading up to the meeting with Velorian. She had chartered three different boats; in Vivec City, in Gnisis, and in Sadrith Mora. Crews were ready to sail at a moment’s notice on each. She had purchased three horses, and had arranged for them to be left tacked and ready at three specific sites each morning, led home each night, every day for that same week. She had not known when the moment would come, or which direction she might need to run. But Velorian had been right; a smart, and self-preserving young woman such as Evenstar would not make foolish decisions. Such as believing the Morag Tong was not ready to kill her in an instant. It had given her a deep pleasure to spend her money on this. She had spent so very little of it in the three years she had been earning it. Had it felt tainted? All she knew was that she had taken no pleasure in buying things with it thus far. But handing over the gold for the three ships and three horses had felt good. There had been a smile on her face as she had given the bank instructions. She would buy her freedom from the Morag Tong with their own coin. She would sail to safety aboard a ship afloat on their dirty money. 

The coastline receded and Evenstar turned away from it. Now she would face her future, in the west. Somewhere that direction was safety. A home. Her friends, Cici, and Lleran. An opportunity to find purpose. To learn her magic. To start new. Perhaps, somehow, to find someone. She was scared to think of the word love. But even just someone to be close to. Perhaps she could show herself that she was not as cold as the world thought she was.

The sun was setting in the west, but she stared in that direction anyway. Patience.

Chapter Twelve

Evenstar had been scared to trust the letter to a messenger, so she traveled to Ebonhart herself to put the scroll into Fedrasa’s hand. Being in a town felt strange to her. There was so much movement here. Her eyes caught flicks from every direction and it made her nervous. She had spent the last two months in total isolation. She had barely heard a human voice in that time. She’d grown used to silence and solitude. And to the cool, diffuse light of her new house. It snowed all day every day there; peaceful tiny flakes that drifted endlessly. She spent hours watching them. The light here seemed brazen, bold and harsh. The cold stone of the city so different from the warm wood of her snug refuge inside a snowglobe.

Yes, she lived in a snowglobe. Little Greenleaf had been right. Tanavir was a man who could find anything. When he had heard what she wanted, he had asked her means. She had named a number she felt sure would impress even him. His eyes had widened briefly, then he had told her she would hear from him in three days time with options. 

Three days was longer than she had stayed anywhere in the past month of traveling. But it had passed without incident, and when she had met with him again, she’d been extremely impressed with his offerings. He had brought info on five houses. 

One, on Khenarthi’s Roost, was tiny. 

“Out of the way,” he told her. “And elevated. No one can enter except by the one door.” It was cute, and seemed secure, but it had no land or gate.

Another, enormous and intimidating was in Coldharbor. 

“Hard to find someone who’s on another plane of being. Who’s going to look for you there?” Tanavir asked. She agreed, but thought she might rather risk being found then living in Coldharbor.

The third was in Craglorn, inside a cave. Earthtear Cavern it was called. The pictures and plans were amazing. Evenstar could hardly believe how large it was. 

“You could hardly get further from civilization,” Tanavir assured her. It was true, the house was in the middle of absolutely nowhere. She liked it very much.

The fourth house was in Wrothgar, high in the mountains.

“Pariah’s Pinnacle,” he told her. “It’s as far as you can get in Tamriel from Vvardenfell I think. And it’s so remote that no one even knows it’s there.” It looked solid, secure. Up in the clouds. She was intrigued.

The last house was the most curious.

“It’s a snowglobe,” Tanivir explained. “You live inside it. Some sort of Tribunal magic. You could put the globe itself anywhere. It’s a portable house.”

This was hard to even conceive of.

“I have to see it,” she told him.

“Of course. I’ll show you any of them that you want.”

In the end she visited the last two. Earthtear was interesting and unique, but she wanted a house, not a cave.

They went first to Pariah’s Pinnacle. The wayshrine itself was remote. But as they journeyed east into the mountains, she could hardly believe a building could be constructed in a place so rugged and harsh. The views once they reached it, however, were astounding. After touring the inside, they stood on the outside patio gazing north.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at a nearby complex of buildings only just visible through the swirling snowflakes.

“No place for you and I,” he told her, in a hushed voice. “That’s just an old ruin, but deep within it is the entrance to the Maelstrom Arena.”

“What’s the Maelstrom Arena?” she asked. He had spoken its name like a curse.

He shrugged.

“A good place to die,” he said bluntly. “An arena run by an insane daedra where the brave but foolish can play at being a hero. If you can make it through the last round, you win.”

“What do you win?” she asked curiously.

“Fortune and glory?” he suggested. “I’ve never known anyone who’s done it. Had a cousin who went away to try. We never heard from him again. Not a very nice place, from what I’ve heard. Who wants to hang out in some pocket realm of Oblivion?”

She shivered. From here it looked like nothing but a broken-down old fortress. It was strange to think about living only a short distance from a place like that.

“Let’s go see the snowglobe,” she told him, turning away from the view. It made her feel cold. And anxious.

It only took five minutes to know that the snowglobe was home. It was small, but not tiny. It was cozy and warm. It felt secret, secure and safe. It had extensive grounds. It was peaceful and quiet. It felt like a place where she could settle in and make plans. 

“I want it,” she told Tanivir.

“Done, then,” he told her. “What else can I help you with?”

“Furniture, supplies, a horse. But most of all, advice. Who can I see about magic lessons. A sorcerer. In total secrecy. A private tutor.”

He smiled.

With a small hand movement he reached up into the sky. A tremendous bolt of lightning struck the ground two feet from where she stood. Yelling in shock, she flung herself sideways and rolled away from him.

“Gods!” she swore “Fuck you Tanivir! You just scared ten years off my life.”

He was laughing.

“It’s not funny!”

He got control of himself.

“It was a bit funny. You should have seen how fast you moved. That roll dodge was worthy of an assassin.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, missing her dagger.

“I was just trying to say I could show you a few things.” He took a look at her angry face and added, “Free of charge. Included in my fees. Gesture of goodwill. What do you say?”

She sighed.

“I say get me a practice dummy and a bed. I’ll see you next week.”

That had been three months ago. Tanivir came twice a week and showed her things. He was not a mage, or a teacher. But his rough magic was a good match for her own. Technique was not his specialty, but she could not afford to hang out in the local mages guild and learn perfect casting. She took what she could from him, and worked hard on her own to perfect it. She was still rough, very rough. But it was clear now that she did have a very potent power. Tanivir himself commented on it.

“You know, you’re three times as strong as me.” She had just incinerated a tall tree on the grounds of the snowglobe.

“I can barely control it!” she said angrily. She’d been aiming for two trees over.

“Control is learned. Power is inherent. You have the power. That’s the greater part of this. But you know, you won’t learn it here. Casting at trees and practice dummies is all well and good. But casting at monsters and dragons and baddies is a bit different. Why don’t you go out in the world? Practice? Discover your potential.”

It made sense. She’d been laying low for three months now. It wouldn’t hurt to go adventuring a little. In the remote countryside. For a couple days.

But she had things she wanted to accomplish first. And one of them involved making contact with Lleran.

Which was why she was standing now in the harsh sunlight of Ebonhart, contemplating the door of the Ebony Flask. Summoning her courage, she pushed inside.

It was dark after the bright outdoors. She waited for her eyes to adjust, then made a detailed sweep of the room. Almost empty, just a maid sweeping. And the innkeeper herself standing behind a counter. Evenstar moved forward towards the woman.

“Are you Fedrasa?” she asked.

“Who’s asking?” the woman demanded.

“My name…” she hesitated. “My name is private. But you can call me…” she paused, thinking furiously. What would this woman believe?

“Call me Buttercake,” she said at last.

The woman’s eyes widened.

“Come with me,” she said at once. Turning, she led the way into the inn to a closed door on an upper floor.

“You are the girl? He told me you would come.”

So Lleran had known she would leave. Despite what he had told her, he had known she wouldn’t stay. She felt a rush of affection for him. 

“Have you seen him? Is he well? Do you know where he is?” The questions came rushing out. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him. Now, gazing into the face of this distrustful woman, she saw his exact mouth, the way it turned down at one corner. She realized she’d give anything to see him again.

“I haven’t seen him in weeks, but yes, last I knew of him, he was well.”

“Do you know where he is? Is he living somewhere?”

Fedrasa’s mouth turned even further down.

“He doesn’t tell me. He says he doesn’t want to put me at risk. Of course, he doesn’t mind putting himself at risk. Foolish risk.” 

The look Fedrasa gave her let Evenstar know that Fedrasa clearly considered that Evenstar too had had a hand in putting him at foolish risk.

“Lleran has been shouldering risk for years,” she reminded Fedrasa quietly. ‘And making it look easy.”

“He’s getting too old for it now,” the woman said fiercely. “You don’t realize his age.”

“Fifty,” said Evenstar. “I know.”

The woman wore surprise on her face.

“He told you that? He never tells people his age.” She sat silent for a time.

“Perhaps you are more to him than the average doxy,” she allowed.

“I hope so,” said Evenstar, a bit crisply. “I love him.” This popped out unexpectedly. Did she love Lleran? As a friend, certainly. He meant the world to her. But was that what she had meant? No time to wonder. She pressed on.

“Has he left word for me? And if not, can I leave a message for him with you? He told me that I could. That you would pass word on to him.”

The woman looked like she wanted to refuse. But eventually she nodded assent. Evenstar pressed the letter she had written into Fedrasa’s hands and made her goodbyes. She did not want to stay here one minute longer under the withering resentment of Lleran’s sister. They might share the same features, but Lleran had clearly inherited all of the charm. It was hard to believe that this sour creature could be related to him. But perhaps it wasn’t all Fedrasa’s fault. It was hard to imagine what it must be like knowing that your beloved brother was an assassin. What must the woman think of Lleran and his associates? That they were all merciless killers, most likely, damned and unredeemable. It was hard to fault Fedrasa for feeling that way, Evenstar half-way believed it herself. But not of Lleran. He was the best of them. From the beginning he had shown her that she did not have to be soulless or heartless to survive. Evenstar could not count the gifts he had given her since that first one.

Perhaps it was that thought that made her turn and take the woman’s hand as Fedrasa led her out.

“I appreciate it,” Evenstar told her. “I can’t tell you how much. Or how much I miss him. He is...a lot to me.”

The older woman’s face softened for a moment.

“He has that way about him,” she agreed. “Even when he’s breaking your heart.” She pulled her hand away and turned back to her counter. 

Evenstar let herself out.

Her letter to Lleran had told him that she had run, and where she had landed. In it she explained about the safety and security of her strange and wonderful home. And she had invited him to come and live in it with her. Or if he would not live with her, at least to visit her there. She had not specifically said she would sleep with him. But she thought the phrasing suggested the idea. She hoped it did. She wanted very much to entice him there. Whether she would sleep with him if he did arrive was something she thought a lot about. She had plenty of free time on her hands for thinking, even more as the weeks stretched out and she did not hear from him. For she was very lonely. She had always been a loner, happy in her own company, enjoying solitude. But she had never been alone like this before. Aside from Tanavir’s visits, which were sporadic, she saw virtually no one. Monthly trips for supplies, into a different city each time, did not satisfy her need for companionship. She missed Lleran more and more as time went on. And she wondered if she really did love him. 

Another month passed and she grew even more desperate to see him. Had Fedrasa given him the message? Maybe the woman had thrown it away. She clearly blamed Evenstar for Lleran having to live on the run. Maybe she had gotten angry and burned the letter. He might not even know she had written. Or maybe he had not been back to Ebonheart. That was possible. The letter might be tucked away in a cabinet, still unread by him. But the worst possibility, and the one that kept her tossing and turning at night, was that he had gotten her note and read it, but had decided not to come. Maybe he was angry at her after all. Maybe he resented her. Or maybe he wanted to come, but something had held him up. Was there a possibility that he had left her a message? Was it waiting for her at the Ebony Flask?

At last, after six weeks had passed, she could not stand it anymore. She made her way back to Ebonheart to visit Fedrasa again. Her stomach was roiling with nerves. She had been so sure he would come to her, and quickly. Her desire to hear word from him of some kind felt like her need for air. She practically fell into the Ebony Flask in her eagerness to wrench the door open. She longed to see even the snarl on Fedrasa’s face. 

Fedrasa was not at her counter. The same serving girl that Evenstar had seen last time was wiping the counter with lazy swipes of a rag. But before she could ask for the innkeeper, a shape came hurtling through the room, out of the dim back corner. It resolved itself into the pudgy, funny body of a bantam guar.

“Buttercake!” cried Evenstar, delighted. “He’s here, then!” She picked up the guar, which was hooting and jumping at her feet. She felt herself grinning. He was here! She would finally see him, reassure herself that everything was alright. He would come home with her, she was sure of it. He could refuse her nothing. And Buttercake too. What a happy family they would be in the cozy house. Her mind eagerly painted a picture of the two of them snuggled in front of the fireplace. Suddenly she knew that she would sleep with him. She wanted to. She didn’t know if she loved him, but she would find out.

“Where are they?” she asked the girl eagerly.

“Who?” the girl asked, puzzled.

“Fedrasa and her brother! Are they upstairs?”

She was already moving towards the back stairs when the girl answered.

“Stop! There’s no one upstairs.”

“Well, where are they then?” 

Still the foolish girl just stood there with her mouth hanging open.

“Are they out? What’s the problem? I know he’s here. You don’t need to keep it a secret from me.”

Was the girl worried that she knew he was here? Maybe Fedrasa had told her to keep her mouth shut. Certainly the girl looked frightened.

Evenstar rolled her eyes and approached the counter. How could she convince her to talk? But suddenly the girl seemed to find her tongue.

“Fedrasa’s dead,” she burst out. “She was murdered! Her throat was slit in the night. I found her! There was blood everywhere! Everywhere!”

The girl put her hands over her face. Her shoulders were shaking.

Evenstar’s heart felt like it had stopped. Fedrasa murdered in the night. There was no chance it wasn’t the Tong. None. But Lleran. Did he even know? He must...his guar was here.

“And her brother?” she asked, her voice rising. “He was here! Where is he now? When did this happen?”

The serving girl was crying in earnest now, tears were rolling down her face from under her hands. Evenstar had not one second of pity for her.

“Answer me! Where is he?” Her panic was growing. Where was Lleran?

The silly girl said nothing, only wept, now laying her head down on her arms atop the counter. Evenstar dumped Buttercake onto the floor and reached across the counter to roughly shake the girl.

“Stop that! Stop it! Tell me, tell me where he is! Tell me right now or I swear I’ll kill you!” She felt wild enough to do it.

The serving girl looked up at her with panic now written over her sorrow.

“He’s dead! He hung himself! Killed his sister and left a note. He hung himself in her room after he murdered her!” She returned her head to her crossed arms and sobbed all the louder.

Evenstar turned away from her in a daze. She pushed the door open and walked out of the Inn. She wouldn’t listen to the dramatic, false sorrow of that stupid girl for one second longer. Her garish tears and heaving sobs were a dishonor to Lleran’s sophistication. She could only imagine what he would say if he saw Evenstar cry over him like that.

And yet tears were rolling down her own face and she found she was stuffing her knuckles into her mouth to keep from sobbing. It wasn’t possible. Lleran dead. It wasn’t possible. Of all the things she had worried about, never for one minute had she worried he’d been killed. He was too good. He was the best. He always said so. The best at killing, the best at a lot of things. The best at talking dangerous women back to his room. Of course he’d be the best at evading the Tong. She’d never worried about it for a second. She’d felt guilt that he had to do it, but she’d never worried he couldn’t. Surely he’d walk up any minute, his funny half-smile tugging up the corner of his mouth as her saw her, and make a crack about how she must care for him after all if she was going to stand in the street crying for him. And she’d laugh, yes, he’d caught her. She did care. She cared so much that she’d throw herself into his arms that minute and never let go. And he’d laugh at her emotion, because she never could let it show, he’d have to tease her, but she’d see that stillness in his face that was the depth of his own feelings for her. And he’d hug her back. And tell her that he loved her. And everything would be alright. 

But he didn’t walk up to her. And she looked around with tears blurring her eyes, but he wasn’t there. Would never be there again.

How had they caught him? Oh what did it matter. They had. They had and now he was dead. His wonderful, beautiful, unique, kind, handsome, charming self was gone. She’d never see him smile at her again. Never feel the comfort of his arms. Oh she’d taken that for granted so many times. She’d propped herself against the support of his love for her and called it her own strength. How many embraces had she pulled out of, turned away from. How many times had she let him know she didn’t need him. But she did need him. And she was ready to tell him. And it was too late. Because now he was gone from her. His voice. His optimism. His generous snobbery for wine, and sharing it. The way he had believed in her. Always. Seen the good in her. He had taught her how to care. He had shown her she had a heart.

He had given her so much and she had taken it all and refused to love him. She had asked him to go up against the Morag Tong for her and he had. He had gone on the run for her, happily. His only worry had been for her. And now he was dead. And she was more alone than she’d ever been. Oh Lleran, Lleran.

She found she was on her knees, on the hard stones of the courtyard outside the Inn. The ridiculous sun was blazing brightly, people were passing by, chatting, laughing, as if the world was still in one piece. Was she the only one who realized everything was shattered? She supposed, in a distant piece of her, that she looked crazy. But she didn’t care. Nor did she now care what he would say if he saw her like this. If he cared he should not have left her. He was the best. How could he have let it happen? He knew she needed him. Surely he knew that. And he would do anything for her. So why would he do this? Why would he let them get to him? Didn’t he know he couldn’t leave her behind like this?

But she didn’t have to be left behind. She could follow him. The Morag Tong could do it. They’d be glad to. Or she could do it herself. Or just wander out of town and let the wild animals kill her. She’d show him then. Did you think I’d be alright Lleran? Did you think I could do without you? More fool you. I had thought I was strong, but I was brittle. You were always what made me solid. It was you.

She lay her head down on the stones and cried.

Two weeks later Evenstar sat on the top of her tower staring at the snow. She had no wrap or blanket and she knew somewhere in her mind that she was cold. But it didn’t really touch her. Cold was simply a physical thing. Temperature could be felt only on the outside. And being uncomfortable on the outside meant nothing to her now. There was nothing left on the inside of her to even feel it.

Buttercake sat on her lap. The guar felt heavy. She had gotten fatter without the hills to climb with Lleran. Evenstar stroked her absently. The animal was her only anchor now. The only being that needed her, or cared that Evenstar was even alive. Buttercake clearly missed her master. She hardly left Evenstar’s side, insisting on being as close to her as possible at every moment. Well Evenstar missed him too. And she wished she could take some comfort from the guar, but mostly Buttercake was just a reminder of what they had both lost. 

Often she played back the conversation in her mind when he had told her about the guar. It had been their first meeting together. She hadn’t wanted to like him then. Had tried hard not to. But he was simply irresistible. All women had found him so. How many had there been? So many, but she had never been jealous. She had thought that meant that she didn’t love him. Because surely if she cared for him in that way it would make her jealous to watch the parade of women through his bed. But she thought now that the difference was that she had always known they were temporary. And she was permanent. He would kick them out at the end of the evening, and spent the night laughing with her. They might have enjoyed his body, but she had held his heart. 

Why? Of all the things she wished she could ask him now, that was the biggest. Why did you love me Lleran? What was it about me? That I threatened to knife you ten seconds after we met? That you never could have me? If I’d given myself to you, would you still have loved me? Was it something inside me? Was it my tits? I never did let you get your hands on them. Oh Lleran I wish I’d let you touch them.

She sighed and stood up. Buttercake slipped to the ground and scrabbled at the trap door down into the house. But Evenstar didn’t open it. Instead she stood at the edge, looking down from the top of the tower. It was high enough, she thought. And the ground was open below. Nothing to break her fall. It would be a long time till anyone found her though. She hated to think of her body laying frozen, frost covering her eyes, her broken limbs twisted and held fast by the cold. Dark elves were meant to burn. So much better to leave behind nothing at all. Only ashes. And those would be carried away by the wind. And she hated to do that to Tanavir. He would be the one to find her. Poor elf. No, she could not do that to him. 

She pulled open the trap door and let the guar hop down in front of her. But still she stood, holding the cold metal ring in her hand. Thinking of Tanavir had stirred a memory in her mind. Standing at the house in Wrothgar, staring at a distant ruin. What is that place? she had asked. A good place to die, he had answered.

A good place to die. An arena filled with monsters. Where the brave or foolish went to prove they were heroes. Could she do it? Could she fight in that arena? Die there? Or what if she didn’t die? What if she lived, what if she could find her potential, as Tanavir had said. What if she could become a master wizard? If there was one thing left to motivate her, it was the desire to kill Velorian, the woman who had ordered Lleran cut down, and his innocent sister with him. Evenstar would welcome her own death, but what if before she went, she could take down the Shalk? 

The idea grew in her. She could take her destruction staff and go. The Tong would never look there. She could stay as long as she liked. Death would be so close. Any time she wanted to, she could let it take her. And in the meantime, she would fight. And she would learn. And she would grow strong. And when she was strong enough, if she survived, if she wanted to live, she would return to Vvardenfell. And she would bring vengeance with her.

No, she heard Lleran say to her. Do not throw your life away on this. But she did not have to listen to him. You left me, she told him. You’re gone and you cannot stop me. I will go. And you cannot save me this time. No one can save me now.

Chapter Thirteen

Maelstrom Arena; truly it was unlike any place she had ever been. The approach to it was the same road they had taken to the house, Pariah’s Pinnacle. One simply turned aside sooner, into what looked like a derelict castle. It was utterly empty when she turned her horse under the tumbledown arch into the open courtyard. Any roof there had once been was gone. The area was open to the sky. Old carts, ramshackle wheelbarrows, broken barrels and empty crates were scattered about. Here and there she poked, unsure where to go. Could Tanavir have been wrong? This seemed a very unlikely spot for a portal to Oblivion. Dusk was falling before she found a stairway, hidden in the back of a broken hallway almost impassable due to fallen stones. A strange light seemed to filter up from whatever depths it accessed. She wasn’t sure she could even maneuver the horse down it. She carried the guar Buttercake in her pack.

It was an old cellar, in slightly better repair than the structure above it. The usual detritus was scattered around, odds and ends in various stages of decay and disrepair. Little hallways led off to nowhere, or ended in piles of collapsed stone. Still, she felt sure she was in the right spot now. A feeling of foreboding was growing in her, instinct raising her hackles and making her swivel about at every noise and shadow. Who came down here and tended these torches? They looked fresh, replaced just today maybe. And what was that humming in her ears?

She rounded a corner and there it was: a portal, huge and glowing. Was it made of fire? Of light? The perimeter of it seemed to be stone, or maybe bone. The whole thing glowed ominously. It looked like nothing a person should step through. She could change her mind still, she thought. Turn and make her way home again. But on the other hand, why? The same things were still waiting for her there. So what if this portal looked like a doorway to death; that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? Before she could think about it anymore, she hurled herself through it, dragging the horse after.

She stumbled, coming out of it. And looked around in confusion. She had been expecting a vision of Oblivion; lakes of fire, dangling precipi with falls into unending aether, spooky mists, lurking monsters. Instead she seemed to have emerged into a Redguard desert camp. Sand dunes rolled away in every direction till they met steep mountains. The whole area was shaped like a bowl. And down at the bottom of the bowl, a modest clump of buildings, rather like a middling-sized farm. 

Cautiously she mounted and rode slowly down the road towards the buildings. As she drew closer she could see that there were people here. Some were Daedra; they were taller, with horns, snouts, and other strange features. But many were human, or mer. A cluster of tents were pitched near a covered spring of water. The light was strange, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, but she sensed it was evening here too. Campfires crackled in various places, with the smell of cooking meats wafting from them. Though she did not hear much in the way of talk or laughter, there was an air of industry. Some were sharpening weapons, repairing armor or polishing staves. Others practiced spells or took swings at a practice dummy. An Argonian lounged in the spring, splashing gently. One Bosmer was even washing laundry in a tub.

Heads turned her way as she walked past the camp, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. She was not here to talk or make friends. She had nothing to say anyway. She would find whoever was in charge here and get answers to her questions. She intended to enter this place at dawn tomorrow.

The center building seemed the most likely spot. Evenstar swung off the horse and tied it outside. A pair of Daedra eyed her with interest, they were swigging something from large mugs and laughing. She ignored them. Surely any Daedra one encountered here were friendly? 

Inside the building was a wide open room. Two more Daedra stood with their heads together, speaking. One was tiny, human-ish, though whether it was male or female was hard to judge. The other was tall, and when it saw her, it beckoned her forward eagerly.

The former, it was revealed, was the demi-prince Fa-Nuit-Hen, and the creator of this strange pocket realm. The latter was his aide, Tutor Riparius. Evenstar found them strange, the demi-prince possibly even insane. But who was she to judge the normality of daedra? And anyway, she did not care about their sanity. She cared about their arena. 

She could enter at any time, Fa-Nuit-Hen told her. And stay as long as she liked. She could return every day. Five times a day if she chose. The stages would be progressively harder. But she could leave any time she chose. If she lived, anyway. And if she lived, and progressed, she could return the following attempt, to face the next stage.

All seemed straightforward. And terribly dangerous. Clearly Tanavir had been right, this was a very good place to die. But she was not scared. She had seen worse than monsters recently. And death was not something she feared anymore anyway. 

She pitched her tent at the edge of the little camp. She was not very hungry, but she ate anyway, some of the fresh food she had brought that would go bad quickly. The light did not seem to change, it was still a twilight reminiscent of sundown. But her body told her it was night out in Tamriel. And so she ducked into the tent and lay down, Buttercake next to her, and attempted to sleep. But sleep never came easy these days, and she lay for a long time thinking. She did not think of the arena, it held curiously little interest for her. She would win, or die. She would improve, or fail. One seemed no better than the other to her. They both had merit and drawback. 

Nor did she think of Lleran. She had spent so many hours thinking of him in the past two months, that she almost felt that there was not one more thought to think. Her brain could conjure up nothing on him, just the grief, and that was always with her. She cast her mind this way and that, was there nothing good she could remember? A pleasant thought to get her through what was maybe her last night alive? Finally she lit upon the memory of the little redhead Breton, and spent a drowsy, decent hour thinking of a pretty girl, a friend she had almost made, and the optimism she had felt that day at learning she was a sorcerer.

She was thinking of magic and its uses when she became aware of a sound from somewhere nearby. It entered her consciousness slowly, so that she felt she had been hearing it for a while before noticing it. But once she realized she did hear it, there was no mistaking the sound of crying. It was quiet, muted. The person behind the sound was clearly trying to muffle it so that they were not heard. Evenstar lay her head back down. She would not embarrass the person by sticking her head out of the tent and looking around. She had done her fair share of crying in the night this past month. And anyway she did not have room in her grief right now for any troubles but her own. Let the tears come. Sadness was the greater part of life it seemed to Evenstar.

Morning brought nothing new; the same half-light lit the sky, the same tents huddled together away from the buildings, the same wind blew sand in dancing swirls. Evenstar looked around, as she emerged from her tent, but there was nothing to indicate the source of the crying last night. Anyway, it didn’t matter. She strapped on her armor, grabbed her staff, and shoved a hunk of cheese into her mouth. She summoned her matriarch and her familiar as she approached the buildings. It was time. Pain, success, humiliation, glory, treasure, failure...she was prepared for whatever this place could throw at her. 

It felt much like the race she had run out of Balmora against the Morag Tong. The choices were twofold: win or die. She could honestly say she was satisfied with either.

Chapter Fourteen

Hours later she stumbled out of Fa-Nuit-Hen’s portal. She was gasping and shaking. She barely made it out of the building before falling to the sand in exhaustion. She was filthy. Sweat had run rivulets down her face and chest and back, then dried, then tracked down her again. Dust coated her. Blood was smeared over her in dozens of places. She could heal herself well enough now, but there was no spell to replace the bath she desperately needed. But forget washing; if there had been a tub of water nearby she would have plunged her whole head in it to drink. She was so thirsty she would cheerfully have sucked down a mud puddle. But there was no water close by, only sand. She leaned back against the building and closed her eyes. The tent was only a hundred yards away, but she could not begin to think of getting up and walking the distance back to it. 

Curse Fa-Nuit-Hen and her demon-spawned arena. What madness had taken hold of her that she had thought coming here was a good idea? This might be a good place to die, but there were far easier ways, surely. From her first step into the hellish place Evenstar had realized she was overmatched, grievously so. Waves upon waves of enemies converged on her from every direction. Kill two, three more spawned. Kill those three, four more were running towards her. Defeat those four and five more were waiting. And after those five? Here was the boss for the round: angry, mean, powerful, and generally enormous. 

Win? What a joke. It had been all she could do to not be overpowered in the very first round. And though she had thought to herself that she would be content to die, it turned out that her pride was strong enough that she did not care to go down quite so soon. The arena was surrounded by seating, where daedra and non-daedra alike watched, cheering and jeering as each competitor fought. Humiliation, it seemed, was a powerful deterrent of suicide.

“Fuck,” she muttered aloud. 

“Here,” said a cool voice. She opened her eyes.

A tall high elf stood beside her. In her hand she held a water skin. She was offering it to Evenstar. With a groan of happiness, Evenstar seized it and put it to her mouth. She drank every drop without taking a breath. She was panting when she finished.

“Thank you. I thought I might expire right here within sight of a giant well.”

“I feel the same way every time I come out. Now I always carry extra water. It’s still never enough.” She took back the water flask and began to walk towards the tents.

“Wait,” said Evenstar. “You said every time. How many times has it been?” She felt that once had been more than enough for her. This place was madness and frustration and loneliness. She had already decided that if she ever made it back to the tent, she would pack up and leave for good.

The Altmer turned back and looked at her with something like sadness in her big eyes.

“Fifty-nine,” she said, in her cool voice. Then she walked away.

Evenstar sat in front of her fire. She stared at the flames without blinking. She should collapse the tent and leave. She did not want to ever enter that terrible place again. What had made her think she should come here? But she was too tired to pack up and leave. Her body felt utterly drained. The twilight matriarch she summoned could heal her body of pain and injuries. But it did not take away the exhaustion that hours of exertion defending your life brought to one. And healing herself of that many injuries had left her what she thought of as phantom bruises. It was as if her body remembered the injury, and wanted to hurt, though there was no trace of the wound itself. Her skin looked the same as it had yesterday, but she felt as if she’d been beaten.

Eventually she sighed and dragged herself inside the tent. There was no reason to leave tonight. Tomorrow morning was just as good. She lay without moving, too tired to sleep, as the wind blew sand against the canvas of the tent, and somewhere close by a person cried quietly to themselves.

The next morning she rose, planning to collapse the tent and leave. But somehow she found herself strapping the armor on and shouldering the staff. There was not much left to her now, and she still felt that any day could be her last. But she did not wish to die a quitter. Or a failure. She would not give up after one try. She thought also of the elf with the pretty eyes; fifty-nine attempts. It had been foolish to come here, she admitted. A rash decision she had not spent much time making. But it was done and she was here. And here she would stay. For the present. There was no where else to be, after all. And if she were to pull through this, the skills acquired here would be useful.

That thought pulled her up, as she entered the building where the demi-prince would conjure the portal. If she were to pull through this. Was it possible? That she could live through losing everything? This was the first time she had really had that thought. It still seemed unlikely, but maybe, maybe not impossible.

Days passed. She continued to survive the cursed arena, often only barely. And suddenly she had been living in the pocket-realm for a week. She still hurt every day. She still could barely stumble back to her tent after finishing. She still could not imagine, even in her wildest dreams, winning. But she had made a bit of progress. On the fourth day she had beaten the first round. She had stood in the center of the arena with Maxus the Motherfucking Many dead at her feet and heard the roar of the crowd. And a strange feeling had come over her: happiness. It felt like years since she had smiled. Her mouth felt strange as she grinned. But grinned she had. The Tutor had smiled at her and patted her on the shoulder. Fa-Nuit-Hen had congratulated her. And pride had filled her. It had drained away by that night, mostly. The grief and numbness had returned. But it was enough to keep her going.

Slowly, she had begun to interact with a few of the other competitors. There were three kinds, as she saw it. 

The first were the losers. This was the biggest group. They came through the portal from Orsinium in all shapes and sizes with all kinds of attitudes. Some were brash and bold, full of jocularity and boastfulness. Some were quiet and confident. Some were scared, nervous and chattering. Some were terrified and silent. Some wore elaborate armor and had multiple weapons slung about their bodies. Some came in clothes armed with only a dagger. But big or small, loud or quiet, they were entering to lose. Some died. You could often tell when someone died in the arena; there was a collective moan from the crowd, then a buzz while people chatted as the body was removed. Others ran, slunk, or were carried from the arena, never to return. One way or another, these people had failed. 

The second type were the winners. There were far, far fewer of this group. These men, women and mer looked the same as the losers. Mostly, there was no way to tell them apart as they entered. But unlike the first type, this second time came out of the arena with armfuls of rewards and the roar of the crowd to farewell them. They rode up the road, out of the portal and away. Many of them were in and out of the arena in a matter of hours. These two types, though opposite in their results were the same in that they arrived and then departed--or were disposed of--on the same day.

The third type--the group that she belonged to--she called, to herself, the tryers. They were the ones that stayed, day by day.

The tryers had not yet lost or won. They hoped and worked to win. And some did. A stir on the evening of her sixth day had turned out to be a nightblade who had spent over a month in the pocket-realm. That day he had succeeded, and emerged victorious. Some of her group would also, inevitably, lose. Then Fa-Nuit-Hen would dispatch someone to discreetly dismantle the person’s tent and collect their belongings to be dispatched to relatives. Assuming any could be found.

New members of the tryers arrived on some days. And some days others departed. But the little tent camp remained mainly the same, as the dedicated inhabitants worked with varying degrees of success to overcome this hardest of challenges.

They were there for all sorts of reasons. Gradually, with only lukewarm enthusiasm, Evenstar began to get acquainted with some of the others. There was a small Breton man named Guilbert; he was a Necromancer and had been there for over two months. She often saw him in the mornings. He too was an early bird. Sometimes they shared breakfast before entering the arena. The tent next to her was occupied by an enormous Nord named Turgon something-Breaker who fought with a two-handed axe. His bushy beard, normally a strawberry blond, was frequently black with dried blood when he staggered back in the evening. She had wondered if he might be the one whose crying she sometimes heard, but then she realized that she had heard him snoring at the same time as the crying on several nights. There was a Dunmer that attracted Evenstar’s attention for her odd predilection for fighting at night. As the rest of the camp ate dinner and prepared to turn in, Ulara waved them all goodnight as she strode into the arena. In truth, all times of day and night were the same in the pocket-realm. The light never changed, and Fa-Nuit-Hen never seemed to sleep. But the rest of them kept to normal-world hours, making Ulara unique.

There were others too that became familiar. She didn’t know their names or stories, but she recognized their faces as they moved about the camp or into and out of the arena. Sometimes in the evenings she felt comforted to see them. As time passed she realized that part of her hesitation in making friends lay in her worry that any of them could die any day. Though she didn’t know that tall Argonian woman or that hefty Orc with the friendly smile, she was relieved to see them scrubbing dishes outside their tents. Even in this strange and forbidding place, even in her cocoon of grief and sorrow, the small connections with men and mer were a comfort. Though they were each alone in their fight, they were not physically alone here. And there was a kinship. Even if they didn’t speak, the closeness of their presence, and their shared experience of difficulties and disappointments, triumphs and pride, brought them all together. And Evenstar lay every night in her tent and was grateful for the sound of muffled sobs. Whoever it was cried her tears for her, and felt a pain that was and yet was not Evenstar’s own. And she was not alone.

Chapter Fifteen

Four weeks in the pocket-realm found Evenstar hopelessly stalled. She had beaten the second round, a fast-paced arena of dwarven constructs and whizzing razor blades. It had been nerve-wracking, but achievable. As she began to get a feel for the place, her fighting became less frenzied. Conjure the shield, slam the staff, light attack, command the pets, light attack, summon the shield, heavy attack, slam the staff, command the pets, light attack, slam the staff, summon the shield. She still felt barely in control, but she had been making progress. She had beaten the third round, a swampy arena full of lightning and screaming lamias. That had been the week that she stumbled back to the tent soaking wet and covered in mud every night after rolling from island to island to avoid their electric bolts. And she had beaten the fourth round, another arena full of dwarven constructs with a wicked and and enormous metal spider as the final enemy. But now she faced the fifth round. And she could not beat it.

It was an arena of snow, ice, and frigid waters. Trolls, archers, lamia, and ogres filled it. She stood on precarious icebergs to fight, and the enemies did their utmost to break them apart in order to drown her in the freezing water. She had spent two weeks hurling herself at the arena with nothing to show for it. Not for the first time, she wondered if she were simply not good enough to beat this. Was she strong enough? Surely she was. But something was missing. As time went by, she almost felt that she was doing worse, not better. She was letting frustration take over. Silly mistakes often crippled her now, and her anger at her own failure made it worse.

“I feel like I’ll never beat it,” she told Guilbert one morning. “I’m not saying I’m going to quit, but I’m also starting to feel like continuing is pointless.”

He nodded glumly. Guilbert too was stuck on what Fa-Nuit-Hen had charmingly named the Rink of Frozen Blood.

“I’ve been trying for a month. That goddamn Matriarch has a personal vendetta against me. I swear if I die in there, she’ll take my body and rip my limbs from my torso. I see it in her eyes, she wants to,” he said.

“I hate how she smells,” said Evenstar. “Have you smelled her?”

“How could I not!” he groaned. “It’s like wet wool mixed with old vomit covered in dead fish.”

She laughed till tears came to her eyes.

“Gods, Guilbert. It’s so true. I worry if I ever kill her that she’ll fall on top of me and crush me to death. Or that I’ll just die from the smell as I lay underneath her.”

“Ugh, don’t even make me think about being underneath her. Do you think she fucks those ogres? Bor and Whore or whatever their names are? Back in the stables or the paddock or wherever the hell they hang out when they aren’t swinging clubs at us?”

“That’s disgusting. But maybe? Why is she called the matriarch? Maybe she has a harem. Maybe she’s got fifty ogres back there that she makes service her every night.”

“If I had fifty women to pleasure me every night, I’d be in a better mood,” he remarked.

“Maybe that’s what we need,” she suggested. “A little mood lifter.” She felt quite safe in suggesting it. Guilbert had a wife back in Daggerfall that he loved to distraction. 

“I’ve never felt less like having sex in my life,” he declared. “This place is sapping my will to fuck.”

They sat glumly eating dried fish. The tutor’s provision choices left a lot to be desired.

“I might take today off,” she said, surprising herself. She had not been aware she was thinking this. But as she said it, she realized how much she wanted a day off. She had not had one since arriving here.

“Good day for it,” he agreed. “The weather looks iffy.” They both squinted up at the sky, which was the exact same as it always was and had been for the last four weeks--or millenia. 

‘Well,” she said, standing up and picking up her plate. “Good luck today. Tell that fat, ugly bitch hello for me.”

“I’ll tell her you’ll be back tomorrow to stick a destro staff up her arsehole.”

“Do it,” she agreed. “I promise to mail your legs and arms home to Marie.”

“That’s a kind offer, merci. See you later then,” he stood as well, and began to gather his gear.

Evenstar took her plate back to her tent and lingered outside it for a bit, watching the day’s competitors file down the road. Some walked down from the camp. Some came in through the portal from Wrothgar. Which were winners? Maybe that confident-looking man in black? Or that small Khajit woman with spots? Or oooh, yes, that Altmer with the flowing blond hair and the enormous muscles. He carried an inferno staff that she recognized as coming from Maelstrom. The highly-prized Maelstrom inferno staff was one of a number of prizes Fa-Nuit-Hen handed out to victors. That this man carried one showed that he had been here before, and had been victorious. Now he had returned. Some of the most talented came repeatedly. They sought to improve their score, to etch their names into the lists that the tutor maintained immortalizing the very best of the best. Or they came for the weapons. Or just for fun. It was hard to imagine thinking this place was fun. But she had heard stories around camp of those who came every day. Those who came for years. Those who were so fast, so good, so perfect, that they were awarded the title of Flawless Conqueror. Perhaps this man hoped to add that achievement to his stack of Maelstrom weapons. He strolled into the building and disappeared from her view. Well good luck to him. Good luck to all of them. For today she didn’t need luck. She was free!

She spent the morning on chores. She aired out her bedding, washed her smallclothes, shopped for food from the few merchants in the area, and cleaned her armor. Buttercake hopped around her, wanting attention.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asked the little guar. “There’s no mushrooms here. But maybe you can find a bug to eat.”

The guar understood the word “walk”, and began running in circles squawking. 

“Okay, then. Let’s go”

They strolled up the road towards the portal out to Wrothgar. The road was empty, this time of day always saw a lull in action. The morning people were inside, the evening people not yet arrived. The guar happily snapped at torchbugs and cockroaches. 

On their way back Evenstar swung out into the dunes. Maybe there was a snake for Buttercake to catch. But the wind blew the grains of sand up into her eyes, and it was only a few minutes before she turned back towards the tents, approaching from a different direction than usual.

That was when she saw the girl, the tall Altmer. It was the same elf who had shared her water that first day. Evenstar had seen her a couple of times since then, the camp was too small to not glimpse everyone in it from time to time. But they had not spoken again. The high elf kept to herself. Evenstar had not seen her talk to anyone. Now, as always, she looked perfect. While the rest of them looked dirty, dusty and ragged, this girl looked fresh, put-together, and elegant; like she’d just stepped out of an Alinor townhome. Clearly she too was taking a day off. She wore no armor, but rather an elaborate gown that was far too fancy for a desert tent encampment. It would have looked ridiculous on Evenstar. But on this girl it looked right, even as she attempted to shake sand off of a blanket and both the blanket and her skirts blew sideways. There was a cool, alluring elegance about her. Like nothing could fluster her in any way. Or surprise her. Or impress her. Was it haughtiness? She moved closer, and tried to study the girl while looking like she was playing with Buttercake. The guar had found a stick and was trying to interest Evenstar in throwing it. She bent down and took the stick, hurling it away from the camp. Buttercake bounded away towards it. Evenstar took another step towards the Altmer.

No, it was not haughtiness, she did not think. Perhaps it was sadness. She had thought that when they first met, that there was a world of sadness in this girl’s eyes. But sad or not, they were pretty. Brown she thought, though she was not close enough to tell for sure. And her hair was brown too, pulled back into a tidy bun. How did she keep it so shiny?

Suddenly the girl looked up from her sandy blanket, right at Evenstar.

Gods, she had been caught staring. Immediately she turned away, looking for the guar who was leaping back through the dunes with the stick. Evenstar bent down and took it from her, preparing to throw again. Perhaps the elf had not noticed her staring. She risked a glance back. The girl was watching her. She had definitely been caught staring. 

What to do now? Pretend she didn’t care? Walk back around the camp to her tent? Fuck it. What was the point of that? She wanted a better look at the girl. This was her chance to take one. Either or both of them could die any day. Better not to wait. She walked over to her.

“Hi,” she said. “Taking a day off?”

“Yes,” said the girl in her cool voice. “It’s my first one.”

“Your first?” asked Evenstar incredulously. “Didn’t you tell me weeks ago that you’d been here for sixty days or something?”

“Yesterday was my eighty-ninth day.” She said this with a steady voice, but Evenstar heard something else behind the simple statement of fact. 

“That’s a long time,” she said cautiously.

“It is. But I’m not concerned. I’ll beat this.” 

“Of course.”

“It simply takes time. And hard work.”

“It does.”

“And patience. I have patience.”

“Patience is important.”

“And skill. I certainly have the skill.” 

Color rose in the girl’s pale face.

“I am determined. So I’m not concerned.”

“Of course not.”

The girl lifted her chin and stared out across the dunes. Her big eyes glittered. Evenstar had been right, they were brown. Huge and warm and fringed with thick lashes. They made her face come alive. Evenstar had never been much into high elves. They always looked cold and unemotional, carved from marble and arrogant as fuck. But this girl, her eyes sparkling with tears she was struggling to hold back, and a blush spreading across her fair skin, was different. Her lips were slightly apart as she stared at Buttercake returning with the stick, and just for a second she caught at her bottom lip with her small, white teeth. 

Evenstar bent abruptly and stroked the guar. Goodness. She had not expected this, the flash of desire that had just raised goosebumps on her skin like the cool desert wind in the evenings. Well, it was good to know she could still feel it anyway. Though she’d never have the courage to make any sort of move towards this elegant and intimidating girl. Even the thought made her shiver. This girl looked like the type that could shut down someone hitting on her with vicious haste. Rather like Evenstar herself. She stood up.

The girl looked collected again, her face arranged in its normal expression of confidence. 

“I’m Evenstar.”

“Elaara. I’m glad to meet you.”

And she did sound glad. And now she was looking at Evenstar with her big warm eyes and a small smile on her lips and Evenstar felt the warm wave wash over her again and was thankful for her own dark skin that hid her blush.

“Do you need help?” she asked, to cover her embarrassment.

“What?” asked the girl. Her perfect, delicate eyebrows knit together and a tiny line of confusion appeared between them. 

“With the blanket,” said Evenstar, gesturing. 

Elaara looked as though she’d forgotten she was holding it. She glanced down at it in surprise.

“Oh. No. I’m fine.”

She began trying to fold it, but it was large and she kept dropping the corner in the sand and finally Evenstar stepped forward and grabbed the edge of it.

“Here,” she said, “shake it!”

They did, yanking the sides up and down between them so that the blanket flapped and billowed. Evenstar was reminded of a game she had played as a child when they put balls on top of a blanket and tossed them up into the air then ran around trying to catch them on the fabric. She found herself grinning at the strange silliness of it and when she met the girl’s eyes for a moment underneath the rippling cotton as it ballooned above their heads she saw Elaara too was smiling. The fabric settled back down and they began the strange dance of folding a large blanket together, stepping forward and back, bending and grabbing the edges, laughing as they both tried to take the same side. Why did this mundane task feel so intimate? Every time she stepped close to the girl to bring the corners together she felt a swooping sensation in her stomach. A strange daring exhilaration grabbed hold of her and she let her hand trail across Elaara’s as she passed her edge over. Their eyes met again and again as they grabbed and folded. 

Then it was done, the blanket a tidy rectangle. Evenstar stepped back awkwardly, aware of how close they were standing. Elaara did the same, so suddenly they were far apart. Had they just been flirting? Surely not, it was in Evenstar’s head. 

She stood waiting while Elaara tucked the blanket back into the tent. She was hoping the girl would ask her to stay, sit and talk or eat or wash laundry or something but when Elaara ducked back out of the tent she simply stood, looking at Evenstar with an unreadable expression.

“Well I suppose I’ll see you around,” Evenstar said after a moment.

“Yes,” said the elf. It was hard to tell if the prospect pleased her or not. And she didn’t make a move to invite Evenstar to stay so Evenstar turned and began to make her way through the camp towards her own tent. Buttercake scampered behind. Well...disappointing. But she was here to concentrate on the arena anyway, not on doe-eyed young Altmer. And that one looked like she might come with some emotional baggage. And Evenstar had plenty of her own baggage. But even so, when Elaara had bit her lip for a moment Evenstar had felt a...

“Wait!”

She stopped. A warm feeling spread through her. She looked around, hoping.

The Altmer was standing stiffly, her hands gripping each other in front of her.

“Would you like to come back? Maybe...have some tea?”

She looked anxious, like this invitation had cost her something. Perhaps she was worried that Evenstar would refuse? But Evenstar had no thought of refusing. She had spent under five minutes in Elaara’s company and that had only whet her appetite. The girl was intriguing. And pretty. Evenstar had not totally made up her mind yet. But the eyes captivated her. And she thought--it was hard to be sure in that dress--that Elaara might have a rather magnificent rack. In any case it warranted a closer look.

“I’d love some tea,” she said, turning back around.

“Oh good. I have some excellent leaves I brought all the way from Summerset…” she trailed off and began rummaging in a nearby sack.

Evenstar seated herself on the ground and began to poke up the fire, which was only embers.

“What arena are you on?” she asked Elaara.

The elf sprinkled tea leaves into a strainer and began a complicated brewing process. Evenstar watched her with interest. Elaara had lovely long fingers. And she moved with a deliberation that bespoke confidence. There was a grace about her. She was not what Evenstar would call feminine, there was no coyness, flirtation, or desire to impress. There was simply an aura of refined dignity about her. Evenstar respected economy of movement. Fidgeting, nervous, useless action set her on edge. She herself could perch motionless for hours. Stillness of body indicated stillness of the soul, or so Evenstar had always thought. She felt much the same about chatter. She always hated useless words. She did not think she would hear many of those from Elaara. 

At last the girl handed her a cup of hot tea. She wore satisfaction on her face.

“There,” Elaara said. “It’s ever so hard to make good tea in a place like this. But I think that will satisfy.

“And to answer your question, I have made it to arena seven. Fa-Nuit-Hen calls it her ‘Vault of Umbrage,’ whatever that means. A foolish grammatical impossibility is what I call it. A physical impossibility too, maybe. I cannot seem to pass it.”

“Is that the round with the poison flowers?”

“Yes. It’s freakishly difficult to avoid them. I do what I can, but it simply seems like bad luck at times. On the other hand, plenty of others pass it with no trouble, so it clearly is not a matter of luck, but of skill I seem to be lacking.”

“I’m not sure anyone passes it with no trouble,” objected Evenstar. “Not their first time.”

“Perhaps not their first time,” allowed Elaara. “But I am not on my first time. I have spent thirty days there.”

Evenstar thought of saying something encouraging, but something about this girl discouraged platitudes. 

“I’ve been at the fifth arena for fourteen days,” she said instead.

“Ah. Enjoyed your fortnight with the Matriarch have you?”

“Not in the least, the vile bitch. She smells like a rotten carcass. When do you think the last time was that she washed her cunt?” 

Elaara choked on her tea. Evenstar smiled, though she hid it behind a sip from her cup. This had been calculated. How prissy was the Altmer? If she was too much of a prude, there was simply no point here.

But after Elaara finished coughing she began laughing, putting a hand over her mouth as though she knew she shouldn’t find such rough humor amusing. She trailed off laughing and shook her head.

“I can’t believe you just said that. But...yes! I’ve never smelled anything quite like it. Do you think that it does come from her…” Elaara struggled. “Cunt?”

Now it was Evenstar’s turn to laugh. Hearing that word from Elaara’s proper mouth was a delight. The elf looked surprised she had said it. Evenstar would stake her life that it had been the first time. 

“Dunno. I try to stay far enough away never to find out. Wouldn’t shock me if she was a dirty wench like that though. Swinging clubs at people and roaring like a grizzly taking it hard seem to be her personal interests, not personal hygiene. What’s the story in Arena seven? Who’s the big swinging dick in the Vault of Cumbrage?”

This time Elaara spit the tea out.

When the tea was done and Evenstar was back at her own tent, she lay on her back and thought about the girl. She had been an unexpected delight. There was fun inside her, just below the surface. All you had to do was peek past that proper, good-girl exterior. It made Evenstar wonder what else she could find by looking. Was Elaara--just for example--maybe a hot little thing in bed? Evenstar could see it. And feel it, too. She shifted on her back. Elaara’s breasts...now that she’d had more time to look, she felt quite sure they were amazing--large, round and high. And she was taller even than Evenstar. What might her legs look like under that full-skirted dress? What would her hair be like if she let it down from that tight, dignified bun? How long would it be? Long enough to reach the ground if she bent over Evenstar right now? It would be silky, that she knew; thick and soft and smooth. Like her lips would be if they were pressed against Evenstar’s own. And though Elaara would be timid at first, she knew those lips would open up with a little encouragement and…

“Bugger him! Bugger him with Ysmir’s bloody sword!”

Evenstar sat up with a start. Turgon was back--after another unsuccessful day it seemed. She poked her head out of the tent and watched him stomp around his own campsite. He picked up a kettle full of water that she couldn’t have lifted if she’d tried and emptied it over his head all at once. Then he took his hands and scrubbed them over his face and beard. The water dripped red onto the sand.

“Hi honey!” she called to him. “Welcome home! How was your day?”

“I’ll rip his fucking cock off and shove it down his throat!” he roared at her.

“Let him suck his own dick,” she agreed. “We talking about Master Solkyn?”

Turgon grunted in reply and began urinating to the other side of the tent. She pulled her head back inside. Men were so gross.

But women on the other hand...she just bet that Elaara smelled as good as she looked.

Chapter Sixteen

The next day she beat the Rink of Frozen Blood. She walked into the arena and completed the rounds one by one until Matriarch Runa lay dead, half-submerged in the icy water. Evenstar made sure to tread on her as she made her way out. She was done with it. Finally. After two weeks. Why had that felt easy? Why, after fourteen days of struggle, had that felt simple? It had flowed out of her like humming a tune. She had reached for it and it was simply there. 

The next arena would be no picnic, she could tell. Spiders, their webs, and glowing monoliths were arrayed against her and ready to make her life difficult. She couldn’t even get past the first round that day.

But it didn’t matter. She had watched the Matriarch fall to the ground like a giant tree and heard the roar of the crowd applaud her efforts. There had been a lightness in her today. Some small part of her frustration had evaporated. Some portion of her sadness and heartache and guilt had lifted. Or perhaps been replaced. And she thought she could put a name to what had replaced them. 

And a pair of brown eyes.

She knew it would come to nothing, this interest, this crush she seemed to have developed. Mostly likely the Altmer was not interested in her particularly, girls more broadly, or relationships in general. She seemed a person who enjoyed her solitude, and who was focused quite keenly on Maelstrom Arena. The likelihood was that the tea had been a one-time get-together. Evenstar would simply look back on a fine time with a pretty girl and be happy. Just like the little Breton. Elaara was a person that in another place and time she might have liked to get to know. But the tent camp outside of Maelstrom Arena was not a place to find romance. And probably that was for the best. Evenstar was still unsure that she knew how to show interest in that way to a woman. How to come on to a woman. How to seduce a woman, make love to a woman. 

She had now, at last, to admit to herself that she was attracted to them. She fancied women. They were pretty; soft and smooth and curvy. They had lovely mouths, and smooth cheeks. They had narrow waists and gorgeous hips. And they had breasts. Elaara’s made her almost sigh with longing. She had spent far too long already imagining easing that high-necked gown off the elf and seeing them. They were large, what would they feel like in her hand? Would they fit into her palm or spill over the top into her fingers? What color were her nipples? Were they large, like her breasts? Were the areola dark like her lips? Or pale like her fair skin? What would it feel like to put her mouth on them? Would Elaara shiver? Would she moan? Would she open her mouth and let her head fall back so that her long lovely neck was exposed? Would she reach her hands up and hold Evenstar’s head down onto her as she sucked on them? 

These were the thoughts that occupied Evenstar that night, as she lay in her tent and listened to Turgon snore. She almost wanted to laugh at herself. That she could be here, in this hellish pimple on the ass of Oblivion, surrounded by death and blood and failure and strangers, still trying to keep from drowning in her own grief, and yet wanting to reach down between her legs to the wetness she knew was there just from thinking about Elaara’s tits. The elf would probably kill her if she knew. At the very least she would freeze Evenstar to the ground with her icy glare. 

Evenstar rolled on to her side and tried to ignore Turgon’s snoring. Tomorrow she had more spiders to face. But still she dreamed.

Spiral Shadows, the arena was called. It wasn’t long before Evenstar came to hate it every bit as much as the Rink of Frozen Blood. The spiders would cover the glowing obelisks with webs, and they would all converge on her at once, and the hoarvers would not explode where she wanted them to, and then she would fall and fail and have to start over. New webs, new struggle.

“At least the final boss won’t smell as bad as Runa,” said Guilbert over eggs a few days later.

“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t met her yet,” said Evenstar. “But why do you say that? She’s named the Champion of Atrocity. Who says one of her atrocities isn’t stinking like a dead mammoth?”

“Don’t talk about Turgon that way,” chided Guilbert. They laughed. Turgon was consistent about washing his beard, but that was the only part he seemed to care about keeping clean.

“He farts in his sleep,” she told him gloomily.

“Enough! I do not wish to know what that beast does at night.” Guilbert wrinkled his nose. Sometimes Evenstar had a hard time believing that Guilbert was married. To a woman.

“At least he’s alone in there,” she offered. “What if your next tent neighbor began entertaining?”

Guilbert’s eyebrows went up.

“Do you think it happens?” she asked him.

“Do I think people get lucky at Maelstrom Arena? No, cherie. I do not. I think that not one person has ever gotten laid in this tiny pocket of paradise. Because it’s horrible here. Probably Fa-Nuit-Prim has a tiny cock and wants to make sure no one else gets any more action than he does. But why do you ask?”

She hesitated.

“Oh gods. Oh beautiful, wonderful gods!” he was beginning to smile. 

“No, Guilbert...no.”

“But yes! You are getting fucked! Who? Tell me! Tell me right now!”

“Shhh. You’re crazy. I’m not. I swear.”

“No? But you want to. You’re close to it. Oh tell me. Tell me, you must.”

“No way.”

“Will you tell me if I guess?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Is it Luvaris?”

“That dark elf with the bow? No.”

“Not him, ok. Is it Findar?”

“Who’s that? I mean, no. But who is it?”

“The wood elf with the red hair.”

“Gods, no.”

“Not into Bosmer? Fine, I won’t ask about that one with the pet ringtail.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Yes you will. Is it the orc? What’s his name. No, you wouldn’t with an orc.”

“I have, actually. Not with him.”

“What? You must tell me.”

“Tell you what?” asked a new voice.

They both startled, and looked up.

Elaara was standing there. She had armor on, and her staff strapped to her back. She was looking at them awkwardly, as if she already regretted intruding on the conversation.

Guilbert shrugged.

“Star is about to tell me about…”

She cut him off. 

“About the sixth arena,” she filled in smoothly. He gave her a wounded look.

“Spiral Shadows?” asked Elaara. “That one was easy. Keep one obelisk webbed until the last round. Clear it, and smash her.”

“So easy, is it?” asked Guilbert drily.

She gave him one of her cool looks. 

“In comparison to the rest? Yes.”

“And you found the fifth arena easy as well, I suppose.” His tone was unmistakably mocking.

She looked at him for a moment. Evenstar began to feel nervous.

“Take the speed sigil to start,” she told him. “When you get to the next iceberg, take healing. And when she breaks that one, retreat the the third and take defense and weapon damage both. Ignore her mobs, focus only on her. You will have twenty seconds. Save your ultimate until then.”

She walked away from them, threading her way down to the road. 

“You ass! Why were you so rude?” Evenstar hissed at him.

“Moi? Never! She’s rude! That girl is a bitch, everyone thinks so!”

“I don’t!” she retorted hotly, and sprang up.

“It’s her!” he called after her, hooting. “By the gods, it’s her!”

She ignored him, vaulting over the campfire and landing in Ulara’s front porch area. Thankfully the Dunmer slumbered at this hour.

“Elaara!” she called, darting through the tents after Elaara’s erect figure.

Elaara ignored her, though she surely heard. There were a number of people on the road now and Evenstar could not move as quickly as she needed to. She dodged around and between bodies, trying to catch up

“Wait!” cried Evenstar. 

But Elaara did not wait, and before Evenstar could overtake her, she was gone, into the portal.

“Fuck!” Evenstar cursed. “Fucking...fuck!”

She stomped back to her tent to put on her armor. 

It was not a productive day in the arena. She’d been bitten by spiders fifty times, she thought. Their poison made her feel funny, almost drunk. She had healed herself of course, but it did not seem to remove the effects of the toxin, only sealed the bite wound. It would probably be wisest to just lay down and sleep it off, but she felt disturbed about Elaara and this morning. She wanted to talk to the Altmer. She sat in front of her fire staring at it until past what was really visiting hours, but she couldn’t make herself turn in without seeing the elf. 

As she made her way through the camp she realized how late it was. She had sat, watching the flames and thinking--summoning her courage, she admitted--for a long time. Everyone was inside their tent now. She heard snoring rise up from various directions. There was no movement at all. Thankfully it wasn’t dark, it never was. But the closer she drew to Elaara’s tent, the more she realized that she should turn around. Elaara was almost definitely asleep and it was not the right time to talk to her. But her legs kept her moving towards the tent. 

And she realized she heard the soft crying too. Soft, but growing louder as she maneuvered through the tents. And why was it taking so little time to walk here? Truly, there were only four tents between them and the walk had taken less than a minute. She must stop and go back now. Surely she hadn’t really meant to talk to the elf at this hour. It had been more like a dare to herself. Stop, she commanded her legs. But they didn’t. She walked the last few yards and was standing next to Elaara’s tent. Listening to the crying. It was here. It was Elaara.

Evenstar hesitated. It was Elaara she had heard all these nights. Elaara weeping alone at night in her tent. Why? She seemed so strong to Evenstar. Not at all the type to break down. Was it the arena? And what should she do? Go away, certainly. Elaara would not want Evenstar to know she was crying, she was certain of that. Yes, she must sneak away quietly and never let Elaara know she was here.

Instead she pushed the tent flap aside and stooped inside.

“Elaara?’ she said softly. The girl lay on her mats and blankets with her face pressed into her arm. Something furry and fluffy wrapped almost around her head.

In a flash Elaara sat upright, dragging a hand across her face. The fluffy thing unraveled and revealed itself as a fox. Evenstar was not a cuddler, but she felt a moment of desire to pick the thing up and nestle her face against it, so soft it appeared.

“What are you doing here?” hissed Elaara in alarm. “Get out!”

She should get out. But she had come this far. 

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine! Better when people don’t sneak into my tent at night.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have. But...I wanted to say sorry about this morning. About Guilbert. He’s an asshole. Don’t let him bother you. I came over to say that and I heard you crying. I thought I could...help,” she trailed off lamely.

“I don’t need any help,” said the elf proudly. It would have been more convincing if her voice hadn’t shook.

Evenstar sat down. It was hard to stand in the tent, and anyway she wanted to be on level with Elaara.

“Are you sure?” she asked softly.

Elaara’s eyes closed and she bowed her head for a minute.

“No one can help me,” she said finally, her head still drooping. “That’s the problem with this place, isn’t it? No one can help. One has to face it alone.”

“Once we walk through that portal, yes. We are alone. But out here we don’t have to be. Why should we be?”

Elaara just looked at her. 

“Can I stay for a bit? Or do you want me to go?”

Elaara wiped her face on her sleeve again. She looked at Evenstar and nibbled on her lip.

Even with her face red from crying and her eyes puffy she was beautiful. And now Evenstar could see her unbound hair. It was long, and just as thick as Evenstar had hoped. It hung in the girl’s face now, making her look even younger. And more vulnerable. Evenstar wanted very much to kiss her. Could she? Did she dare? Was she ready? Was Elaara?

“What are you looking for from me?” the girl suddenly asked. “Why are you being nice to me? I know what people think of me. The same thing that man you were with this morning thought.” She tossed her head and she looked more like her normal, confident self.

“And what’s that?” asked Evenstar. She wanted to hear Elaara say it.

“That I’m unfriendly. That I’m cold. Rude. A, a…” she struggled on the word.

“A bitch?” suggested Evenstar.

“Yes.” Elaara’s cheeks colored now. Her eyes were very bright and her hair wild. 

“Well, yes. Maybe you are. Fine, I say. Fuck them. I’m a bitch too. Do you know how many times I’ve been called cold? That somebody has told me that I’m unfeeling? That I’m emotionless and frigid?” She shrugged. 

“You’re not emotionless!” protested Elaara, she looked almost offended at the idea.

“I don’t think you are either.”

“Do you think I’m a bitch?” 

Evenstar laughed.

“Bitch is a word people use to describe competent women who don’t give a shit what other people think about them. I think people are intimidated by you.”

“You’re not?”

“Actually, I am. You’re a bit scary. But I’m an intimidating woman myself.”

“Me, scary?” She laughed. “No. It’s true of you though. I was intimidated by you at first. You looked so...fearless. Reckless even. Like nothing could stop you.” She paused and seemed to consider.

“I saw you on your first day. As you were walking in. You looked so grim. I feared that you would never come back out of that portal. You almost looked like you didn’t intend to do so.”

Evenstar said nothing. She did not want to tell that story now. She wanted to keep watching Elaara’s face as she talked, the way her lips moved.

“But you did. When I came out later, there you were, sitting against the building. I was relieved.”

“You were?”

She looked uncomfortable, hesitant.

“There was something about you, I suppose. It...interested me.”

“And there is your answer too. What do I want from you? I’m not sure. There’s something about you. It…”

“Interests you?”

Evenstar took a breath and threw caution to the wind.

“Attracts me. You do.”

Elaara blinked. She looked like she was trying to work out what Evenstar might mean by this. Evenstar shifted, rose up onto her knees and edged closer to Elaara.

“I want you.” Her heart pounded. Was she intoxicated? Was it a crazy, potent mixture of knowing she might die tomorrow, spider poison, and those enormous brown eyes? 

Elaara was staring at her. She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t back away. Could she do this? It was so close now, just inches away. She had to try. She had to.

“Can I kiss you?” she whispered.

The moment stretched out. Elaara would say no. She would say no and tell her to get out and never talk to her again. Evenstar would walk back to her tent in shame. Tomorrow she would fling herself at the terrible arena with the same careless disregard that she had in the beginning. Evenstar felt the rejection settle in her stomach like a rock. Well, at least she had tried.

And then Elaara moved suddenly. She pushed up and leaned purposefully across the distance and pressed her mouth to Evenstar’s. It was a moment before she could even process it. She had been so sure she had known the answer. But she’d been wrong, gloriously wrong. Elaara had not rejected her at all, she was not walking back to her tent embarrassed and dismayed. She was feeling the warm pressure of Elaara’s soft lips. She had been too surprised to react much, and after a second or two, Elaara took her mouth away and began to draw back.

“No!” said Evenstar. She reached out and took hold of the elf, pulled her close again. “Come back.”

This time she put her arms around her, pulled Elaara close, felt the heat from her body, and all of her curves press against her. And after a moment, Elaara did the same, wrapping her arms behind Evenstar and closing her eyes as their mouths met again. Deeper this time, and longer. Evenstar lifted her mouth off with a sigh and immediately pressed it back to Elaara’s again. And again. And each time Elaara met her, twisting her mouth, angling deeper, their hands moving on each other’s backs, the smell of Elaara, soft and herby, like fields in the summertime. Elaara’s hair fell around them, got in between them, Elaara gave a little noise of frustration and flung it backwards then kissed her again. And oh yes it was good, so good. The taste of her, like something rich and earthy.

“What do you taste like?” she muttered in between kisses. “Gods it’s amazing,” 

Elaara laughed into her mouth, lips curving atop hers.

“Tea, probably,” she murmured. “I drink it constantly.”

“Mmmm, you’re so good. Don’t stop.”

“You don’t.”

Finally they broke apart. Elaara’s eyes were bright, her face flushed. Evenstar knew she must look the same. They looked at each other, breathing hard.

“I didn’t expect that,” said Elaara. “Did you?”

“I hoped for it. Elaara…”

“Call me Laara. I think we’re at that point now.”

“And you should call me Evie.

“Evie. That suits you. It’s warmer. And whoever told you that you were cold, they had not kissed you.”

“So you liked it then? I was so worried that, I wasn’t sure if, well...if you would want me. A girl.”

Elaara thought about it. 

“I’ve never considered it before. I don’t think I do want a girl. I want you. I didn’t know it until now. But I think I have been wanting you since I first saw you.”

This caused something huge and wonderful to swell in Evenstar’s chest. Elaara wanted her. All things were possible now. She wanted very much to kiss her again, lay her down on the blankets and touch her, but she thought this was not the moment. Tonight had been wonderful. She should not rush it.

“I should go,” she said. She could hear the regret in her own voice.

Elaara hesitated, then nodded.

“We both have an early morning. But...come again tomorrow?”

She said this shyly and sweetly, and Evenstar felt the swell inside her again.

“Of course. Tomorrow night. Good luck tomorrow. You will get it, you know.”

Elaara shrugged.

“Yes. But...somehow it matters a bit less now.”

The next morning did not dawn, any more than any other day. But to Evenstar, it felt like a morning full of promise. She could not remember feeling this way in such a long time. Maybe ever. There was so much possibility in life today that had not been there a week ago. 

Guilbert grilled her over cheese and dried meat.

“The high elf! I cannot believe it. You’ve slept with her.”

“No. Leave it Guilbert. I’m serious.”

He looked closely at her.

“No, it can’t be.”

“What can’t be?”

“It’s more than sex. You’re really into her. I hear it in your voice.”

“I refuse to talk about it. Pick another subject.”

“Gods!” He smiled at her. “Good! I’m glad. I’m happy for you. You may be the first person in the history of time to fall in love in the Maelstrom Arena.”

“Who said anything about love?” she said. “Watch yourself. Evenstar doesn’t fall in love.”

“As you say, cherie,” he smiled his knowing smile and bowed to her as he stood up.

“I do say,” she assured him.

“I beat it yesterday, tu sais. The Rink of Frozen Blood.”

“You did? Why didn’t you say something? Congratulations! That’s amazing!”

“Yes,” he agreed. “It was. The splash that ugly bitch made when she fell was music to my ears.”

“Welcome to the Spiral Shadows then, Sera.”

“It was your friend who made the difference.”

For a minute she didn’t understand.

“Elaara?”

“I did not even know her name. Yes, the Altmer. She was right you know; how to beat it. I did as she said. I owe her a debt of gratitude.”

“I’ll tell her you’re grateful,” Evenstar said slowly.

“Do. You know,” he paused, “I am sorry for what I said yesterday. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps she isn’t cold.”

“She’s not,” said Evenstar, and she smiled.

“You would know,” he said. “I am happy for you, Star. You deserve someone. She might be just what you need. A bientot, friend.”

He kissed her on both cheeks and picked up his staff.

She went back to her tent and strapped on her armor. 

The day passed. She killed spiders, daedra, beetles, lurchers, and other assorted baddies. Some of them injured her. She healed herself. She made it to the final boss, the Champion. She did not kill her, but neither was she killed. Guilbert had been right, this boss did not smell nearly as bad as the last.

She did not care about any of it. Desire to succeed in this stupid arena had been wiped entirely from her mind. Grief about Lleran, despair over her life, fear about her future, regret about her choices: they were all gone. Or maybe not gone; buried. The only thing she could see all day was Elaara. Her big eyes, filled with wonder and maybe a bit of fear over what they had done. Her long hair falling in her face, her elegant fingers brushing it back. Her lips, swollen from kissing, the way she often held them just the slightest bit apart. Her smell, like rolling in a warm field of grass. Her voice, so cultured and proper, turned husky as she murmured into Evenstar’s mouth. And the feel of her, oh gods. The feel of her breasts pressing into Evenstar’s own, so she could feel her nipples stiffen through the fabric. Her long, smooth back as Evenstar ran her hands down it; she could not wait to feel it bare under her fingers. What would her skin feel like? And her legs, her legs. Oh she could not wait.

And the most wonderful, marvelous question: what would happen tonight? 

It was still early when she quit. She did not care. She was so distracted she feared she was a danger to herself. And anyway, she told herself, she wanted a bath tonight.

Evenstar hated bathing in cold water, perhaps it was her Dunmer blood, but in her book, bathwater should be as hot as possible. And she wanted to take her time cleaning today, so she heated it. She borrowed Turgon’s enormous kettle. Even empty she could barely lift it. But eventually she wrestled it back to her campfire. Then she carried bucket after bucket of water from the well and emptied them in. Finally she sat back and waited for it to warm.

When it was steaming she stripped off her clothes and washed, as best she could without a tub. There was really no way to do it without being naked in public. But it was still early and there was no one around. This was a challenge, but she wanted to be fresh for Elaara tonight, not dirty with days of sweat and dirt and worse covering her. Elaara herself always looked like she was ready for tea in the townhome. The fact that Evenstar herself had spent the last 15 years living in sewers, tenements, one-room, run-down apartments and even under docks was something she did not need to advertise by looking the part. 

The moment this occurred to her, it began to worry her. And the worry grew. Elaara had breeding; it showed. She had fine manners, a high-brow accent, and fancy things. Her armor was gilded and decorated, etched with designs, layered with plates and finished with rondels and draped with lush fabrics. If it had belonged to Evenstar it would have been torn, bloody and ruined within ten minutes. The fact that Elaara always looked pristine showed what care and caution she took. It also, perhaps, showed her skill. 

This was something else Evenstar had not thought much about. She had been mainly focused on Laara’s personality: the contrast between her good-girl vibe, her cultured manner and the adventurous, fun, hopefully playful version of herself she kept hidden underneath. And, of course, she had been focused on her beauty. But now she remembered what Guilbert had pointed out this morning, that Elaara had been right about how to defeat arena five. Now her confident manner and cool, unflappable determination took on another meaning. Was it possible Elaara was phenomenal? Powerful and precise? Was it, not hubris, but simply a justified pride that made her speak as she did? Evenstar had not seen her fight, but suddenly she suspected that this was true. She remembered what the girl had said the first day, about her own skill and determination. Elaara was not a person to brag. If she said it, likely it was true.

Evenstar rinsed herself off. This line of thinking made her feel unsettled. The more she thought about it, the surer she was that Elaara’s life was the exact opposite of her own. She had come from money, probably had a first-class education, was a talented and successful mage, and likely walked with her nose in the air through the streets of Alinor past riff-raff like Evenstar every day of her life. Then she wined and dined with the upper-crust of Altmer society, and was escorted to parties by proper gentlemen with pretentious beards. Well...maybe not parties. Elaara didn’t seem like the party type. But even so.

Right now, Elaara didn’t know her very well. But what was she likely to think when she learned that Evenstar was a dockrat? An erstwhile assassin with sixty murders to her name and a price on her head? A hard-knocks girl with a shady past and not a friend or family member left? That she’d only picked up a destruction staff for the first time six months ago? That she still found herself reaching for a dagger that wasn’t there? That she had a trail of meaningness one-night stands behind her, including that orc--oh gods she just wouldn’t mention that, ever--and that Imperial who had…

She put her head into her hands. Stupid. She’d gotten swept away by this. She’d let herself get lifted up by those big eyes and that smooth voice and Elaara’s calm manner and she’d forgotten everything. She’d forgotten that she was a lost soul. 

Elaara would never want her when she learned the truth. 

Suddenly, noise startled her out of her thoughts. Turgon was returning to camp, raging and cursing as usual. You never did have to wonder what was in his head. There was literally no distance between his brain and mouth. 

She dove into her tent naked and dragged on her nicest, cleanest clothes. Then she carried Turgon’s kettle back to him. Well, she was as good as she could get now. She examined her face in her small mirror. Was it written all over her; that she was damaged goods? Or was it hidden, so Elaara would only know it when Evenstar told her. If she told her. Because she could choose to not tell it, of course, make up some sort of boring story about her parents killed in an accident, raised by an aunt who recently passed away. The name Lleran did not need to come up. Nor did the name Morag Tong.

But these things had made her who she was. And though she could lie about her past, she could not be other than she was. Not even for Elaara. 

Her excitement for tonight felt like it had been replaced by dread. Now she felt like a clock was running on her time with Elaara. Perhaps the subject could be avoided tonight, but eventually it would come up. And Evenstar would not lie. It was not in her. She did not know what she wanted from the elf but the likeliest outcome was that Elaara would make the choice for her, and say goodbye.

Still, she could not quite make herself lose hope completely. She wanted Laara too much. And the girl wanted her too, she had said she did. At least that was a common ground. And so was this heinous arena. So Evenstar ate a small dinner, brushed her teeth and chewed some mint, smoothed her hair a last time and walked the short distance to Elaara’s tent. Dear Lord Vivec, she thought quickly, standing outside, if she’s going to tell me to fuck off, I understand. I probably deserve it. Just please let her show me her tits first.

Chapter Seventeen

Elaara was welcoming, but not overly warm. She served tea to Evenstar, and seated herself as far away as was possible inside the tent--which admittedly was not too distant.

“How was your day?” asked Evenstar. The girl looked nervous. Perhaps some talk on a neutral subject would calm her.

“Not what I had hoped.” Despite her words, she looked happier, relieved they weren’t going to discuss last night right off the bat.

“Tell me about it. About that arena. What part do you struggle with the most?”

“The arena? It’s strangely beautiful actually. Green and dense. It’s humid there. And terrible, of course. There is much to struggle with, but my own hardest one is the luck of it. The random aspect of the flowers. When they spring up, where, when they bloom. If there was something to learn there, to memorize, I would have it. When there is a solution, I discover it. But in that arena the puzzle changes each time. I cannot place the pieces because just when I find them, they change.”

“You helped Guilbert beat the Rink yesterday. He asked me to thank you. He said you were dead on about it.”

She inclined her head.

“Tell him he is welcome. That round gave me some trouble, but not much. As I said, when there is a clear solution, I find it.”

“But this time the solution isn’t clear.”

“No. The order, the strategy, the priorities; they are all simple. The arena would be easy if not for the poison blooms. It cannot be learned. It...frustrates me.”

Evenstar wanted to say that they were all frustrated, Elaara wasn’t alone in this. But she sensed that the frustration itself was troubling to Elaara. It wasn’t just the arena that troubled her, it was her own reaction to it. Struggle and failure were not common to her. She did not know how to deal with them.

“Maybe you need to stop looking for a solution,” she said instead.

“What does that mean?”

“Just that some things can’t be ‘solved.’ This may be one of them. Don’t try to run it, surrender to it.”

“Surrender to an Argonian Behemoth?” She laughed. She knew this was not what Evenstar meant. 

“It’s hard to explain what I mean. But sometimes you have to feel something, not see it. The understanding is in your gut, not your brain. Follow your instincts.”

Elaara considered this.

“I see your point. But I’m not sure that I have instinct. I just have logic.”

Now Evenstar laughed.

“I’m the opposite, I think. Sometimes I fear I have only instinct.”

Elaara nodded.

“I can see that in you, yes. You act from your heart, not your head.”

“I’m not sure about that. A lot of people would say I don’t have much of a heart.”

“The same ones that say you are cold, I presume.”

“Probably.”

“They don’t know you then.” She paused and realized what she was insinuating. “I guess I don’t know you well either. But...I have a feeling about you.”

“Ah-ha! See? You do have instinct.”

Elaara smiled.

“Well argued. Perhaps you have logic.”

They looked at each other in mutual appreciation. Evenstar set down her empty tea cup. 

“More?” asked Elaara, gesturing.

“No,” said Evenstar. “No more tea. Do you have anything stronger?” Maybe a drink would relax Elaara. As soon as the conversation had hit a lull she tensed up again.

“You mean wine?” Elaara looked alarmed at the word.

“Sure, that would work.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t drink much.”

“Mmmhmmm. That doesn’t surprise me.”

“You think I’m no fun?” 

“I think you’re scared of your fun.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Evenstar shrugged.

“Prove me wrong.”

“By drinking? I told you, I have nothing.”

“But I do. In my tent. I can have it here in two minutes.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to drink at night before competing in the morning.”

“Very logical.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m listening to my instinct. It’s telling me we should have a drink.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you meant irresistible.”

She had meant it in regards to the argument, but as soon as she said it the tone changed. Elaara looked at her intently.

“I think,” she said slowly, “you might be right. I find it almost impossible. To resist you.” It was hard to say if she sounded happy about it.

Evenstar was just wondering what she could say to this when Elaara spoke again.

“Maybe you should get that wine.”

Had Elaara just said that? And with a smile as close to flirtatious as she’d ever seen? Evenstar quickly got up. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She heard Elaara’s laughter as she ducked out of the tent.

This girl. This girl. What was it about her? But Evenstar knew. It was that cool, classy don’t-touch-me exterior, so alluring just as it was, and even sexier when it showed cracks. It was that well-modulated voice, arousing as it was explaining maelstrom, explosive when it was admitting she wanted her. It was that prim mouth saying “don’t touch me” and those big brown eyes saying “yes please.” She could not get enough of watching Elaara. The way she moved, the elegance in her hands, the way those lips pursed when she was thinking, the way she tilted her head back sometimes so that her long neck was exposed. 

The wine. Where was it? Evenstar seized it and slapped the tent flap back out of the way as she ducked out.

“Where are you going, little elf?” bellowed Turgon at her, though she was no more than ten feet from him.

“Just having a drink with a friend,” she told him, trying to not look as desperately in a hurry as she was. She did not want to get back and find that Elaara had changed her mind.

“Well get some for me!” he said, slapping his thigh in delight at his own humor.

Before Evenstar could reply, words echoed up from other tents in the area.

“And me!”

“Me too.”

Good grief. It would be all over the campsite that she and Elaara were...well, what were they doing? Evenstar didn’t know. And she didn’t want to think about it. She wanted to watch Elaara’s lips on the rim of a wine glass. She wanted to hear Elaara laugh, see her throw her head back and watch that slim, white neck. Feel Elaara’s demure mouth soften under hers.

“It’s just a drink!” she said loudly to all in the vicinity.

She darted back to the tent.

Elaara had not changed her mind. She had two glasses ready and Evenstar poured them full. They sat back, drinking, talking of the arena, of the camp. They were quiet, tents were thin and they did not want to be overheard. It felt illicit, whispering together.

“Luvaris sings sometimes,” said Elaara. The Dunmer was her next-tent neighbor. “His songs are so sad. Your people’s language is melancholy.”

“Yes. It is. I barely speak it myself, just bits and snatches.”

“Did your parents not teach you?”

Here it was then, the first question about her past. 

“No. My mother died when I was a baby. My father died when I was ten. They didn’t have much time to teach me anything at all.”

“I am sorry, said Elaara quietly. “My father died too. I was not as young as you, but I know the pain of losing a parent.”

“You still have your mother?”

Elaara didn’t answer right away. She seemed reluctant. At last she sighed and said stiffly:

“My mother isn’t well. She gets...confused.”

Evenstar said nothing. She knew by now that Elaara did not appreciate pity. After a moment the Altmer looked down at her hands and gave a bitter laugh.

“To be honest, she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, Laara!” It burst out of Evenstar before she could control it. 

Elaara nodded, still looking down at her hands.

“There is more. My family is complicated.”

“So is mine,” said Evenstar. “Should we not talk about them right now?”

“Definitely,” said Elaara, looking relieved.

Instead they talked of other things. Evenstar asked where she had gotten the fox; Finn, it was named. And so she learned of Elaara’s best friend, Ess. She did not probe too deeply here, for again the story seemed tangled in sadness, but Elaara spoke of Ess with such affection and longing that Evenstar felt a pang of jealousy for their closeness. It would have been an opportunity to talk about her own best friend, either of them, but both stories would be long and heavy and complicated and she could not bring herself to talk of them. The wine had made her happy and mellow. She did not wish to ruin that mood.

Sitting in a tent was difficult. There were no chairs, no seating of any kind. You sat cross legged on the floor, and there was nothing to lean against. After a time, and two glasses of wine, one got tired of sitting upright with no support.

“Can we lay down?” asked Evenstar. “My back hurts. I must be getting old.” Without waiting for an answer she sprawled out across the mats. It felt good to lay down. She closed her eyes. That felt good too. When she opened them a minute later, Elaara was laying down too, facing her. 

“Hi,” said Evenstar.

“Hi.”

They lay looking at each other. After a time, Elaara reached a hand out and touched Evenstar’s face.

“You are beautiful,” she said.

Evenstar did not reply. She was not beautiful, she knew this.

“Your face is different from every angle. From some angles you are pretty. From some you are strong. From some you are soft. From others you are fearless and intimidating. From others kind and gentle. Sometimes when I look at you I think you are ten different women. Light and shadow, angles and planes.” Elaara’s hand traced her cheekbones and forehead.

“And your eyes, they are so deep. Sometimes,” she paused and blushed. “I feel like I cannot look away,” she finished.

She began to withdraw her hand and Evenstar caught it, pressing it to her lips.

“You make me feel the same. Your eyes, your skin, your face; it’s like you’re flawless. You’re so impeccable you could be carved from marble, but you’re so alive. Your color--so pale that when you blush…”

She trailed off and let go Elaara’s hand to draw her own down the girl’s cheek. Elaara turned her head so her face pressed into Evenstar’s palm.

“You’re so perfect,” she continued, “it’s hard to believe you could want me. I’m so...flawed.” 

“I’m not perfect. And even the illusion is difficult to maintain. Sometimes I worry I will break from the strain of it.”

“I do not think you could break. You’re too strong.”

“Am I? Then why can I not defeat this arena? And why do I lay here at night crying? I hate this place? I long every day to leave it. I miss my home. I miss my friend. I want to say I miss my life, but was it mine? Had I chosen it? What am I even doing? What am I working for?”

She closed her eyes. Evenstar moved close to her, as close as she could get. She wanted to put an arm around Elaara, but that sort of closeness was hard for her. 

“I hate this place too,” she said. “And I want to leave it. I miss my home. I miss my friend. And yes, my life is mine, but I’ve fucked it up so badly I don’t deserve it anyway. I feel like I’ve made every decision wrong since I was ten years old. Questioning things doesn’t mean you aren’t strong.”

“Failing does.”

“You haven’t failed until you stop trying. Are you stopping?”

“No.”

“Because you are strong.”

Elaara opened her eyes. They were so close their noses were practically touching.

“I want to forget all this,” she said. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“Alright.”

“Evie?”

“What, baby?”

“Make me forget.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Evenstar wanted this so badly. But now that it was here she felt nervous. 

“Sit up for a second,” she told Elaara. “I want to take your hair down.” Elaara sat up and turned her back towards Evenstar. Evenstar reached up and began drawing the pins out, one by one. After four, Elaara’s tidy bun began to unravel. By six her thick hair had totally uncoiled itself. Evenstar pulled the rest of them out quickly and set them down. Now she could do what she’d been longing to do for days. She took her two hands in Elaara’s hair and fanned it out across her back. She let the glossy strands fall through her fingers, then scooped them up again into a long tail. She ran her fingers down the silky, heavy weight of it. She dropped it and took her hands up to the top of Elaara’s head, lacing them through the denseness and combing them through all the way to the bottom. Elaara’s hair reached well down her back. It swung and glittered like a live thing. Elaara made a noise of happiness as Evenstar touched it. Evenstar could have played with it all night, but finally she let it fall again and pressed her face into it, against the back of Elaara’s neck. It smelled as warm and soft as it felt. 

“You smell like summer,” whispered Evenstar into her neck. She parted Elaara’s hair and pressed her mouth against the soft skin. 

“Mmmm,” said Elaara, and turned her head to the side so that Evenstar’s mouth slid across her neck from nape to side. Evenstar kissed her neck again, higher, close to Elaara’s jaw, then lower, almost to her collarbone, then back up under her ear. And Elaara turned her head further and further, trying to look at Evenstar, so that Evenster was kissing her throat now, up under her chin, and down in the little hollow at the base of her neck. And while she did, Elaara was trying to kiss her, wherever she could: her face, her forehead, her closed eyelids, her cheeks. Elaara was so soft here, so smooth. Finally she tipped her head back and gave Evenstar the access she wanted. And Evenstar reached a hand up to the side of Elaara’s face and gave herself up to that neck. Up and down she kissed; soft, hard, with her mouth closed, with her lips wide open. Every assassin had a love for the neck--it was such a vulnerable place. The long column of Elaara’s was mesmerizing. And now Elaara had her eyes closed and her mouth open and her long hair hanging down and Evenstar felt she could feast on this neck like a vampire.

Finally she pulled her head up and they looked at each other.

“I want to take this off,” Elaara said, plucking at her gown, her eyes bright. “If you want me to, that is.”

Vivec, you are my levitating homeboy. I will burn you something good tomorrow, I promise. 

“I do want you to. I want it like crazy.”

“And you will take yours off?” Elaara asked. “Because I want you to. Like crazy, as you say.”

“Then yes, of course I will.”

Elaara sat up to her knees, pulled the dress off, over her head and dropped it beside her. She looked at it for just a second, and Evenstar had a flash that Elaara was wondering if she should fold it. But then she turned away from it back to Evenstar. Her face was almost defiant. 

But Evenstar could not keep looking at Elaara’s face. All she could see now were her breasts and before she could even think about it, she was reaching for them. 

Elaara’s skin was warm. That was her first thought, as her fingers brushed against her. She had to push Elaara’s hair out of the way first. The light brown strands hung down Elaara’s chest and in front of her breasts. Evenstar could see her nipples through that curtain of hair, small and pink. She took Elaara’s hair and tucked in behind her shoulder, first on one side, then on the other. Then she looked.

“Gorgeous,” Evenstar breathed. “You are absolutely gorgeous.” And she was. She was pale, but with a golden hue to her, like just a bit of honey. She had shapely arms and a long torso. Her tummy was flat as a plate--she must watch what she ate, thought Evenstar--and though she knelt, Evenstar could see that her legs were long and lovely. But her breasts. They were all that Evenstar had eyes for. She took in the rest, in a quick sweeping look, but her eyes went back to those magnificent tits like a magnet to a lodestone. 

They were large, larger than Evenstar’s own. Bigger, maybe, than she had thought. And perfect. High and round with small areola--she could cover them with her mouth, Evenstar knew--and delicate little pointed nipples that thrust upward. She reached a hand up and cupped one, the warm smooth weight in her hand unlocking a feeling in her like she’d never known. Evenstar had felt desire before, but nothing like this. The need to possess Elaara hit her like a tidal wave soaking every inch of her at once. She could not wait another second.

“Lay down,” she whispered, putting her hands behind Elaara and lowering her down. As soon as the girl lay flat Evenstar put her hands back onto Elaara’s breasts, bringing them together. She lowered her head and took a nipple in her mouth.

As soon as she did, Elaara moaned and Evenstar raised her head for a moment to look at the elf.

“Don’t stop!” Elaara gasped at her. 

Evenstar lowered her head again. She opened her mouth wide and took in as much of Elaara’s breast as she could, sucking as hard as she dared. Then she drew her mouth back and gently took the hard point of the elf’s nipple just between her lips, touching it gently with her tongue and tugging at it. Then she picked up her mouth entirely and just licked at it, feeling it stiff and pointed under her tongue and listening to Elaara’s whimper. Then she plunged her whole mouth down again on her, sucking hard, drawing it up into her mouth, even biting at her. And with her hands she held the heavy weight of Elaara’s breasts. Large as they were, they fit perfectly in her hands. With her thumb underneath and her fingers above, she teased at the nipple of one while she licked and nibbled at the other.

Elaara moved underneath her, thrusting her tits up towards Evenstar and arching her neck. 

“By the eight…” she murmured. “That’s so good. Evie. Yes. Keep going.”

Evenstar lifted her head.

“You like it?” she asked. Despite wanting this desperately, she felt a little shy. She was no stranger to sex, but with a woman she knew nothing at all.

“It’s amazing. Why are you stopping? I told you to keep going! Except...wait.”

Evenstar had bent over, ready to give the other breast the same attention, but she looked back up at this.

“I want you naked as well. You promised.”

“I did,” agreed Evenstar. She sat up. Elaara watched her with wide eyes.

She reached behind her and drew off her own top, then quickly undid her sash and let the skirt slide down off her hips. She knelt with the skirt puddled around her and let Elaara look. The elf’s eyes roved over her. After a moment, she sat up. They knelt facing one another.

“Gods,” she whispered. Then she reached out a hand. “May I touch?”

“Baby, if you don’t, I’m going to beg you for it.”

The elf looked at her with a smile, then she put her hand on Evenstar’s shoulder and let it trail all the way down. She didn’t touch Evenstar’s breast, not really, but her fingers ran down the side, down over her waist and hip until Elaara couldn’t reach further and instead she took her hand behind and ran it over Evenstar’s ass and up onto her low back. Then she pulled.

They came together like fire to dry wood.

Elaara’s mouth pressed onto hers, hard and hungry, and the girl’s hands, at first wrapped around behind her, snuck up between them for Elaara to grab and squeeze Evenstar’s tits. Evenstar gasped, kissing her back, pressing her tits into Elaara’s hands. They kissed, mouths open, moving under one another’s lips, tongues touching, breaking apart only for a breath. Elaara’s hands moved on her breasts, circling, fingers holding and thumbs rubbing back and forth across Evenstar’s nipples so that she trembled, and moaned against Elaara’s mouth. Finally she couldn’t take it any longer, and leaned back, looking down to Elaara’s pale fingers against her own dusky skin. Then, finally, Elaara bent her own head down and began kissing. Not, at first, on her nipples, just around them, above and below, trailing her fingers across them and running her tongue around the perimeter of Evenstar’s areola. 

“Tease,’ whispered Evenstar “you are torturing me.” She leaned back, offering herself up to Elaara, begging for the girl to take her. And finally she did, opening her mouth and putting it over Evie’s nipple with a soft noise.

Oh Gods. Had she thought she wanted Elaara in her mouth? She hadn’t known she’d wanted this even more. Elaara was pulling her waist in, trying to make her lie down, and she did, sprawling out on the blankets. And Elaara stretched atop her, her long legs straddling Evie’s own, and both her hands on Evie’s breasts. Her tongue flicking back and forth on Evie’s nipple until at last she sat up and shook her hair back out of her face.

Evenstar looked up at her, sitting astride her, tall and golden and perfect, chest heaving, brown eyes narrowed in desire, hair tumbling about her shoulders, until she lifted her arms to pull it back and caused her large breasts to thrust out, nipples hard and pink. She had never seen anything so sexy in her entire life.

“You are hot as fuck,” she told Elaara. And the girl laughed. 

And then she moved. It was only a small movement, perhaps not even intentional. Maybe just a shifting of her hips. But it washed over Evenstar like sinking into hot water. Liquid. She was already wet, she could feel it. But when Elaara moved on top of her she felt a pulse between her legs that she couldn’t ignore. She moved back in reply and looked up at Elaara’s face. The girl felt it too, Evie could see it in the way her eyes suddenly looked fixed. 

“Come down,” she told Elaara. “Lay with me.”

Elaara swung her long leg over and lay beside Evenstar, turning on her side first, until Evie gently pushed her onto her back and raised herself up onto her elbow. She leaned down and kissed Elaara softly.

“Ella-bee,” she said softly. “Sweet like honey. And golden like honey. With a sting like a bee. I’m going to touch you now. Make you come. Make you scream.”

Elaara smiled up at her. 

“The whole camp will hear if I scream.”

“Let them. I want everyone to know you are mine.”

“Yours?”

“For tonight anyway. Ma petite abeille. My honey. Let’s find out how sticky you are. Open your legs.”

Elaara hesitated a moment, then she let those long golden thighs fall apart and Evenstar put her hand on Elaara’s knee. She let it slide inside and slowly up Elaara’s thigh so that the girl exhaled with a little sigh and relaxed against Evenstar, turning her head and rubbing her lips against Evie’s nipple above her.

And then Evie’s hand rested between Elaara’s legs. She was smooth here. And warm. Evenstar let her hand lay still there for a moment, open, her whole palm covering Elaara. Then slowly, gently she let one finger press in between the folds, feeling to discover...yes, here it was, Elaara was slippery with desire. Evenstar moved her finger gently, from back to front, pulling wetness forward so that Elaara was sticky everywhere.

She turned her head and watched Elaara as she touched her. The girl’s eyes were closed, mouth open.

“You are very wet,” she told her.

Elaara’s eyes opened.

“Am I? I feel so...I don’t know. Like I never have before. Like all the feeling in my body is where you are touching me. Like I’ll die if you stop.”

Evenstar considered her.

“Have you done this before?”

“No! Never!” said Elaara vehemently.

“To yourself even?”

“No! That’s not the sort of thing good girls do. And I...oh!” she broke off as Evenstar moved her finger. “I am a very good girl.”

“Well I’m not. I hope that’s ok.” She moved her finger more.

“I think I like it, that you are bad. Oh gods, what are you doing? It feels divine.”

“I told you, I’m going to make you scream.” Suddenly she felt protective of this girl. Elaara’s first time. And Evenstar would be the one. Elaara would come for Evie and it would be Evenstar’s name she cried out. Evenstar’s fingers bringing her there.

“Just feel.” she whispered. 

Elaara closed her eyes again and whimpered while Evenstar moved her hand. She slipped her other fingers down into the sticky wetness and touched her, ever so gently, low down, then higher up, just playing, letting her fingers explore. Elaara moved under her hand, her lips apart. She looked as Evenstar had dreamed of seeing her: given up to abandon. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair spread out around her, her lips trembled and she turned her head from side to side as Evenstar touched her.

At last she let her fingers trail up, found the small bump that was Elaara’s clitoris, and began to rub it.

Elaara gasped and pushed up against her hand.

“Gods, yes.” she murmured. “Just that, just exactly that.”

But Evenstar wanted to give her more. Seeing Elaara like this was driving her wild. She wanted to drive Elaara wild too. She pulled Elaara’s leg more to the side and moved in between them. She kept one hand touching Elaara, but she took her other hand and slowly slipped two fingers inside her. Oh good gods above she felt good.

Elaara reacted instantly, drawing in a quick breath and breathing it out with a moan.

“Yes?” Evie whispered to her.

“Yes, oh yes. Evie. Gods. Oh just like that. Yes. Give me more.”

“I will give you more. As much as you want. My little bee. Come for me.”

She felt it start to build in Elaara. She was panting, whimpering, begging Evie to keep going. Evie did, trying to draw it out, make it good, but she could see Elaara wanting it now, chasing it. She pushed up against Evenstar, forcing Evie’s fingers deeper, harder. Evie felt the tightening in her, the rush. 

And then she came. Evie felt it against her fingers, long and strong and sexy. And against her other hand as Elaara writhed and bucked under her. But she heard it too--she, and everyone else in the camp. 

Evie had wanted her to scream. But even she hadn’t imagined the reality. She was utterly aroused, herself. She could feel her own pulse down low between her legs, and she ached to put her hand, or better yet, Elaara’s hand, down into the wetness she could feel with every heartbeat. But even through her fog of desire she felt pride, and a silly bubble of happiness that she had done it. She had touched a girl and done a bang-up job at it. At least, if the sound of Elaara yelling “Fuck yes, Evie” over and over again was anything by which to judge. And she definitely thought that it was.

Chapter Eighteen

Guilbert ate oats out of a bowl and stared at her. She kept her head tucked down, studiously examining her own breakfast and refusing to make eye contact.

“Alors,” he said at last, licking the oatmeal off the spoon. “You had a good evening?”

“Very nice,” she muttered into her bowl, and stuck a giant bite into her mouth.

“It was...satisfying?”

“Mmmmph.”

“So nice to spend time with friends. Good to relieve stress with some relaxation.”

She shot him a look.

“What? Life is so boring here. Give me something interesting to think about.”

“Boring? When you could be killed at any moment?”

He shrugged.

“This is what my life has come to! I am a jaded man. I can’t even summon enthusiasm for killing monsters anymore. If I have to see another Daedra running at me with a weapon I’m just going to throw down my staff and…”

She cut him off.

“Take your cock out? That’ll scare them away.”

“A cruel elf. It’s too early in the morning for being mean.”

“Fine, truce. Stop pestering me and I won’t bring up the size of your family jewels.”

He sighed.

“You won’t tell me anything? Nothing at all? I know you fucked her, the whole camp knows! Except Turgon maybe. He’s an idiot. But you were good! This I know. Congratulations!”

“I didn’t fuck her. I mean...did I?” She sat pondering it. If a man had done the same to her she would not call if fucking. But, of course, things were different with a woman.

“I didn’t,” she decided.

Guilbert studied her.

“Do I need to bring up your dick again? I did see it that time accidentally when you were washing and for a second I thought it was actually…”

“Fine!” he interrupted. “I understand you. Go on then. If you will tell me nothing then take your oatmeal and go.”

“This is my tent,” she pointed out. “You came over to visit, I’m sorry, pester me.”

He looked around and nodded.

“C’est vrai. Well then, I will go. Good luck today.” He began to walk away, then turned around and called back “hope you are as good today as you were last night!”

She heard laughter from surrounding tents and she finished her oatmeal with her cheeks burning.

She wanted very much to go over to Elaara’s tent to say good morning. But she was hesitant to attract the attention that she knew she would if she walked through the camp. She had stayed next to Elaara for most of the night. But in the very early hours she had ducked out and made her way back to her own tent. She had had a (vain) hope that perhaps no one would know what had happened if they didn’t see her walking back in the morning. 

She had not slept well. She lay awake for hours just looking at Elaara, and thinking. Elaara’s face held nothing of the cool confidence asleep that it did awake. Elaara looked like a child when she slept. Evenstar wanted very much to hold her, but she did not want to wake Laara, nor did she consider herself the type to snuggle. Though she began to wonder more and more exactly what type she was these days. Maybe she would go and say good morning. They all knew anyway, what was there to lose? And she wanted to see her. That was the long and short of it. 

She stood up to wash out her bowl and her gaze was caught by a tall, slim figure in white and gold making its way out of camp to the north. Oh. So Elaara would sneak away this morning without speaking to her. Evenstar felt a sinking in her stomach. Clearly Elaara did not feel a need to see Evenstar the way Evenstar needed to see her. Disappointing. She shrugged it off, or tried to anyway. 

But it stayed with her despite her efforts. She donned armor, fed Buttercake, prepared her staff and potions, and entered the portal, all with Elaara on her mind. She fought decently, considering how distracted she was, but she did not kill the spider queen and she quit at the end of the day feel disgusted with herself.

She sat in front of her fire, brooding. It had not been a good day. The further she went in the Maelstrom Arena, the more convinced she was that she really was not good enough. She had come this far through hard work, perseverance, raw talent, and some good luck. But one did not complete this arena through innate skill and good luck. To beat Voriak Solkyn and claim the title Stormborn, one must be elite. Simply the best of the best. When she had come here, she had thought it would be an opportunity to improve her ability with the staff. And she had, to some extent. But not to a level where she would ever beat it entirely. She knew the levels she had completed were the “easy” ones. Round seven, the one giving Elaara so much trouble, was considered one of the hardest. And of course the ninth round, the last one. 

She’d been hearing about Voriak Solkyn for over a month now. Besides sounding like a huge asshole, his arena was extremely challenging. There were many who ultimately gave up, having come that far but unable to go further. Evenstar had begun to realize that she would be one of those. Even saying that she could somehow, at some point, reach that arena, she had no chance of beating it. She was simply not good enough. And she did not know how to get better. Surely practice was the only way, and she did that, all day every day. So why did she feel so stuck?

And why had Elaara avoided her this morning? Evenstar had opened herself up to this girl in ways she had never done before. She had said things, done things, felt things that were completely new. And frankly, frightening. She had found the courage to pursue Elaara, to tell her that she wanted her when the likeliest result had been rejection. She had even resolved in her mind to be honest about her past when the time came. She had lay next to her last night thinking of ways to propose that they be together. Evenstar had never dated anyone. Never cared to be attached even in the smallest way. But she wanted to call Elaara her girlfriend or more. And that feeling overwhelmed her. She felt like every step she took was on shaky ground. This was a new place entirely. She needed Elaara to be on this path with her, so they could find a way together. And yet Elaara walked away this morning without a word. Without a wave even. What did the girl think was going on here? What was this to her? 

Evenstar stood up from her fire angrily. She didn’t know where she intended to go or what she would do. But she could not sit still another moment. She was about to make her way over to Guilbert’s tent--maybe he had some wine, she and Elaara had drank all of hers--when Elaara walked up, clearly straight out of the portal. 

Why did she look so radiant after all day in the stupid arena? Her hair was perfectly tidy, her armor shiny and unmarked, even her face was perfect. She didn’t look exhausted, she looked fresh and new. Actually, she looked lit from within. And she wore an enormous smile. Was she happy to see Evie? Was she coming to apologize for this morning? Did she realize how she had made Evenstar feel? Did she need Evie like Evenstar needed her? Evie’s heart rose within her.

“Evie, I did it. I did it! I beat the seventh arena. I walked in this morning and beat it. And then I went into the eighth arena and I beat that too! On the first day, can you believe it? I’m at the ninth arena now. I didn’t start it. But I’m there! I’m finally there. I knew I’d do it. I knew if I stayed focused I could eventually beat it. I have the skill, it was just a question of memorization, knowing the timing. I was right! Logic is the key. I cannot wait to beat the final arena.”

She beamed at Evenstar, clearly expecting her to shout with joy.

But it was too much for Evie. So Elaara was not smiling to see Evenstar, she was not feeling bad about walking away this morning, leaving Evie feeling empty and alone all day. She had no words about last night. No, she was happy because she had beaten the gods-damned arena. And here she was, full of self-important talk on her skill and how she’d been right all along and how soon she’d be done here, to walk away, to leave Evenstar and her inferior skill and understanding behind. Back to Summerset, Evenstar supposed, to walk with her nose in the air and brag, with that arrogant expression she so often wore, to the men with pretentious beards. But only about her amazing battle prowess, her flawless methods, her infallible skill. Not about the night she went slumming with a hard-knocks girl in a tent. Even though she’d whimpered and screamed and begged for more. No. It was duty first for precious, perfect Elaara. And here she stood, expecting Evenstar to jump for joy about it. 

“That’s fantastic Elaara. Really. I’m happy for you,” she said. There was a lump in her throat and she felt something crazy building inside her. 

“Thank you. I feel so much happier now. You can’t understand how frustrated I’ve been. An enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”

Evenstar couldn’t understand, huh?

“Truly, it’s phenomenal. You’re unbelievable. Really.” 

Elaara clearly couldn’t hear the sarcasm, she was still smiling her satisfied smile.

“All my life things have come easily to me. You don’t know how it has affected me to struggle in this way.”

“No, I guess I couldn’t possibly understand what it is to struggle. That feeling is unique to you.”

Finally Elaara’s smile sagged a little.

“What? Of course not. That isn’t what I meant. I know you are struggling here too.”

Evenstar couldn’t hold it in another second.

“Here? Struggling here? At this pointless arena? You think that matters? We’re meant to struggle here. It’s the hardest fucking fight a person can find in Tamriel. Everyone struggles here. But you think it should come easily to you. Just because everything comes easy to you. Gods, you’re so entitled Elaara. You can leave here any time. It doesn’t matter. What about real life, huh? What about the struggles there? The ones that can’t be solved by Elaara’s flawless logic. You think I should feel bad that you’re having a hard time beating the mean troll at the end of arena seven? You’ve got no clue about anything. About me, about other people. About the world. You’re sheltered, and self-absorbed, and completely full of yourself.”

Evenstar broke off. Elaara’s eyes were huge. 

“You think I’m full of myself? I thought you understood. None of it is about me! I don’t do this for me, I don’t even want it.”

“What do you want then?” 

Evenstar paused, waiting for an answer, but Elaara just stood watching her with an unhappy expression. “Can’t logic that out, huh? Can’t memorize that one. Flawless skill with a destro staff won’t tell you what’s important in life. Little Miss Perfect who knows everything there is to know. Except how to live her own life.”

They stood looking at each other. Elaara’s eyes had filled with tears that she was clearly struggling to hold back. Evenstar felt both sorry to have made her cry and gratified that Elaara could care about something other than the fucking arena. She wanted to turn and stalk away almost as much as she wanted to reach out and touch Elaara.

“I could ask you the same,” said Elaara at last. “What do you want? You could leave anytime, as you pointed out. I know you’re running from something. What is it? The struggles you taunt me with not understanding, when you’ve never explained them? Secrets Evie, that’s what you are. A deep well of secrets. Don’t judge me. Tell me what you want.”

Evenstar wished she could answer that what she wanted was Elaara. But the girl had not answered that she wanted Evie. And she was hurt. She was hurt that Elaara was more pleased with beating an Argonian Behemoth than with Evie’s fingers on her. She was hurt that Elaara did not feel a need to speak to her in the morning after a night like that. She was worried Elaara would hate her if she knew the truth about Evie’s life. She was worried she had no place in Elaara’s world, and that Elaara would never leave that world. She was mad at her own self for needing. Mad that Elaara did not seem to need her. She was jealous that Elaara was better than her. Scared that Elaara would win. Would finish and move on and leave Evie behind.

And now she felt tears in her own eyes. Well she would not give that to the elf as well. She had opened herself up and exposed herself and it had gotten her here, standing in front of a tent arguing with the girl she wanted nothing more than to kiss or cry on or declare herself to, while dozens of strangers looked on. She would not give her tears as well. She felt the old Evenstar take over, the one who knew that not caring was the only way to survive.

“You know what I want? To get the fuck out of here.” She turned away and began stuffing things into her bag.

“You’re leaving?” Elaara sounded incredulous. Evie did not turn around.

“Yes. What’s the point of being here? I’ll never beat it. I’m clearly missing whatever critical piece it needs. And that only leaves you to stay for.” She was furiously packing now. She hadn’t brought much and it only took three minutes. She felt Elaara still standing behind her.

“And I’m not worth staying for?” The elf asked quietly.

Finally Evenstar turned back around. She slung the pack over her shoulder. The tent was still standing, but fuck it. She could buy another one. She wanted to be away. Now. Suddenly she felt utterly exhausted. The anger was gone from her and all she felt now was hopelessness.

“Give me something, Laara. I need something right now. From you. If you want me to stay.”

Elaara stood looking at her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Evie wiped her hand across her own face. 

“I don’t know,” whispered Elaara. “I don’t know what to give you. I don’t have anything to give.”

Evenstar waited for a long moment. Then she nodded.

“I understand. We’re just too different, I think.”

“Really?” said Elaara. “I fear we’re too much alike.”

Evenstar waited. She wanted Elaara to turn away first, but the elf stood watching her sadly, not even bothering to wipe away the tears.

So finally Evie turned away. She called for the little guar and set off up the road. She wanted desperately for Elaara to chase her.

“Wait!”

She turned around, hopeful, but Elaara was still standing next to the fire.

“Where will you go?”

“Home, I suppose. I have nowhere else to go.”

“And where is that? Home?”

Evenstar hesitated. 

“A long way from Alinor,” she said at last. Then she turned away and kept walking.

Elaara did not call out to her again. Evenstar turned around once more, before she entered the cave at the top of the road where the portal waited. It was a goodly distance from the camp, and it was hard to be sure, but she thought she saw Elaara still standing erect and motionless by the tent, just as Evenstar had left her.

Chapter Nineteen

It was good to be home again. It was wonderful to sleep in a bed. To eat food prepared in a kitchen, not over a campfire. To take long, luxurious baths in a tub full of hot water. And most of all it was glorious to wake up and not have to face the arena. Evenstar had not realized how much she dreaded it until she did not have it to dread anymore. 

She had gone to Maelstrom Arena thinking she might die there and that she was alright with that. That feeling had passed now. She no longer thought about dying, about wanting to join Lleran. He would not want it and she realized she did not either. Was it just time that had cured her? Or distraction? Maybe it had been both. She was glad to be done with the arena, but she did not regret going there. She had learned things, one of which was that she was not ready to face the Telvanni. Would that day come? She did not know. But she had more pressing engagements now in any case. The Morag Tong had killed Lleran and his sister, and the Morag Tong would pay. Velorian would pay.

But the planning for that would take time. She was undecided on how she wanted to kill Velorian. With a dagger, as an assassin would? Or with a staff as a sorcerer would? Part of her wanted to hang Velorian, as Velorian had ordered for Lleran. Poetic fucking justice, bitch. She knew it was foolish to consider returning to Vvardenfell. But though she no longer had a wish for death, she still felt the risk of her life to be worth that reward. Evenstar would stand and watch life fade from the Shalk’s black eyes with a grim satisfaction.

But that too lay down the road. Before any of that, there was one other visit she wished to make. At last she felt ready to see Cici. Maybe it was that she had finally acknowledged the truth of what Cici had said so long ago. Maybe it was that she felt safe now approaching Cici. For so long she had feared that she would see Cici and feel something she was not ready to feel. But that fear had faded now. She did not think, with all the time and space in between, that she would feel anything. But if she did, she was at peace with it. She would not act on it, not with Cici. But she liked women. That was all there was. She did not see herself with a man ever again. But for now anyway, she did not see herself with anyone at all.

The thing with Elaara hurt. Of course it did. Evenstar had opened herself up to the girl, and that had been frightening. More than anything else, for the first time in her life she had found herself able and interested in thinking of more. To look down the road past a couple of casual encounters. To imagine a real togetherness. It had been early, obviously, to talk much about that. But it had been in her mind. Elaara had sparked her in new ways; her erudite mind, her elegant ways, her warmth she kept hidden, her cool beauty. And her body…

Best not to think of it. 

But first Evenstar took some time. She needed rest and recovery from that arena. And from Elaara’s loss, which she felt quite keenly, especially at night. She distracted herself as best she could. Mostly, she worked on the little snowglobe home. She traveled to various cities, often at dusk, always cloaked and hooded to avoid notice. She shopped for furniture, rugs and tapestries, for plates and dishes, for all the little things that make a house a home. She had come to love the tidy little house where it always snowed. It was snug and peaceful, and it had proved to be a safe sanctuary. She often sat on top of her tower with Buttercake, watching the tiny flakes fall. 

And so a month passed, then two months. The house was finished, she was proud of it. She, herself had filled out. She was stronger. One day, no different than any other, she resolved to go to Anvil. 

She stepped out of the wayshrine and was immediately taken back four years. The feel of the sun, the sound of the docks, the smell of the city; hot bricks, olives and spice and fish. She had not missed it, but there was a certain reassurance in the familiarity. She made sure the helmet she was wearing--a perfectly hideous thing--completely obscured her face, then she strolled into town.

It would be easy enough to ask about Cici at the Sanctuary; easy and disastrous. No one got into the sanctuary without being an initiate. And people inside would want to know who she was. Anonymity was not possible. She had to find out if Cici was in town, and if so where, without raising questions about her own identity. Eventually she offered a sailor ten gold pieces to walk into Cici’s favorite bar and ask the bartender if he knew her whereabouts. He did know her, the sailor reported back, but he refused to give out info about her. However, the man had suggested that if a person were to come back in the evening after 8pm, there was a good likelihood they wouldn’t have to search any further.

Evenstar decided to kill the afternoon by walking out to the bluff where they had dumped the body of the Imperial. She sat upon a little hillock, took off the terrible helmet, and looked out to sea. The sky was cloudless. This was what she remembered most about Anvil: the light. There was a special quality to the sunlight here. Did it burn away inhibition? Or conscience? 

“Are you thinking of that night? When we carried him out here? Gods he was heavy. You coughed the whole time. I was so worried someone would hear.” 

The voice came from behind Evenstar and the second she heard it she whipped around.

There she was: Cici. She looked the same, better even. Her dark hair was cut shorter. She was perhaps a shade plumper. Her clothes were nicer. But those deep blue eyes held the same mischief. And she still moved with sex in every step as she walked towards Evenstar.

“Evie. You came back at last,” she said, and held out her arms.

Evenstar jumped up and flung herself at Cici.

“You’re here, you’re still here!” she said, her voice muffled against Cici. “And how did you know I was out here?”

“I was sitting in the bar when that silly drunk man started asking about me. I followed him out to see where he was going. The answer was to you. But I didn’t recognize you until you took off that ridiculous helmet. Why are you wearing it? Are you hiding?”

“Yes. From the Morag Tong. I left them, and now they’re trying to kill me.”

“Merde! Trying to kill you? For leaving? What jealous lovers. But, you left them? Why? Did you make your money first?”

“I did. I did make my money. And I left them because I began to hate it. Killing because I was told to. I don’t judge you, Cici. I never would. But from now on I kill because I judge the victim to be evil beyond redemption. Not because some venomous bitch told me to kill.”

“Cherie, I am happy for you. Not happy that the Morag Tong is chasing you; that sounds horrible. But happy that you are out. I am out too now. No more murders for me. Well...very few.”

“You left the Brotherhood? What are you still doing here in Anvil?”

“You, my friend, are looking at the most notorious and expensive madam on the west side of Tamriel. And my headquarters is here in Anvil.”

“Madam?”

“Oui. My girls, I have eight here, and more in other cities, are the best looking, the sweetest, the most discreet. And with quality comes price.”

“Wait, you’re a…”

“Prostitute? Yes. But Evie, me? I hardly do this now. No. I supervise. I run things. I negotiate. I find talent. Can I be bought, yes. But only by the very wealthiest. Fifty thousand. That is my price now.”

Evenstar was reeling from this information, she wasn’t sure what to address first.

“There are men who pay fifty thousand gold to fuck you?”

“Cherie, you misunderstand. For that kind of money, I fuck you. I give you the night of your life. I give you something you will remember till your dying day. Something to close your eyes and picture when you go home to your wife. Something to imagine every time you take your pathetic cock in your own sweaty hand. I sell fantasy, I sell dreams come true. And yes, you pay. But you do it happily.”

“That’s...wow. Cici, if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. You always did take pride in your skills. And it doesn’t surprise me that you’re an excellent business woman.”

“Merci. I am happy now. But you? Why are you here?”

“For you,” Evenstar said simply. She drew Cici down to the ground and they sat, facing one another.

Cici said nothing for a minute.

“You know, I had given up hope on you. My best friend. And you never one time replied to me or came to see me. Four years, Evie. That hurt me. It still does.”

“I know. I know. And I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t forgive me. But...I was scared. What you said. That last night. It was true, of course. I did want you. But truly, I had never realized it. And it made me so uncomfortable. It shook me, Cici. It shook me down to my core and I couldn’t face it. It took me years to face it.”

“You speak as if you have now, though.”

“Yes. I have. All of it. I wanted you then. And I want a woman now.”

“A woman? Not women in general? This sounds specific. There is one?”

Evenstar cursed herself for that choice of terminology.

“Well...there was.”

“Tell your friend Cici everything. No! Wait. Come back with me. To my house. We will drink away the afternoon and evening and you will tell me and I will advise.”

Evenstar felt herself smiling. They stood up. She took Cici’s hand.

“Do you forgive me then? Even though I don’t deserve it? I am so sorry. So sorry we lost that much time. And sorry I acted like you were wrong, when you were ever so right.”

“You do deserve it, cherie. You never could see that you deserve so much more than you allow yourself. And of course I forgive you. It was my fault as well. I pushed you before you were ready. But Evie, I must say one more thing about that night. I should not have pushed you, it was wrong and I would take it back if I could. But Evie I did want you. I love you. I love you as my best friend, and it was not just a gift I wanted to give you, it was a memory of you I hoped to take and keep. I swear to you it is true.” 

“Thank you for loving me. For being my best friend. And even though it was hard for me to hear, I’m grateful to you for telling me the truth about myself.”

“Let us go now and I will tell you some more truths you don’t want to hear.”

“I suppose I deserve them as well.”

“Oui, you do.”

She pulled the helmet over her head and they walked back into town.

She stayed three days with Cici. She never left the house, she actually rarely left the upper story of Cici’s enormous home, which was also her place of business. Cici had named it the Ruby Nixad, and indeed it was draped with scarlet velvet everywhere one looked. Servants brought food and wine, and more wine, and hot bath water, and every other thing Cici demanded. During the day they played chess, Cici tried on clothing, and Evenstar told the story of her last four years. In the evenings, Cici worked. Her girls arrived at the house, and at regular intervals from 7-9pm the doorbell rang and gentlemen were escorted into the fancy parlor. Some had appointments. Some arrived unexpectedly. All were served quality brandy or wine and discreetly shown to a ground-floor room where one of eight lovely women waited. When all eight were engaged, Cici met all other callers with a polite dismissal. Then she locked the door, came back upstairs and spent the evening drinking with Evie.

On the second night, Evenstar pulled a large, heavy item out of her pack.

“I have a favor to ask,” she told Cici.

“Oh?”

“I’d like to leave this in your care.”

“Qu’est-ce-que c’est?”

“My home.”

Evie unwrapped the snowglobe from its cloth and handed it to Cici. Cici looked at her in confusion.

“I live inside this snowglobe. Fancy Tribunal magic. It’s hard to explain. Hold it by the base. If you touch the glass you’ll port inside.”

Cici shook the snowglobe and watched the flakes swirl around.

“There went my dishes,” joked Evie.

“La, you cannot be serious.”

“No. But I am serious about leaving it here. Once a person has been there one time, they can travel in from anywhere. But the first time, they must come through the snowglobe. Please don’t let anyone through. Hide this. Under your bed or in your closet or whatever.”

“I’ll put it here,” said Cici, and placed it on her vanity. “It will remind me of you whenever I see it.”

“Hopefully it will inspire you to visit often.”

“Will you be there, I wonder?”

“I honestly don’t know. But you’ll be welcome whether I am or not. If you’re ever in trouble, don’t hesitate. No one will ever guess this is a house. Touch it and you’ll be inside instantly. But...this is a big ask. You understand I’m not joking about the Morag Tong. There’s always a possibility that they come knocking on your door.”

Cici twitched the slit in her skirt aside and pulled a beautiful silver knife out of a sheath gartered around her smooth, creamy thigh. 

“Let them,” she said with a smile.

Over the course of the three days, Evenstar met all eight of Cici’s employees. Two were Imperials, two were Breton, one was Dunmer, one was Redguard, one was Bosmer and one was Altmer. The Altmer girl, Nirwe was her name, reminded Evie very much of Elaara. Their mannerisms and way of speaking were totally different. But Nirwe’s long brown hair, pale skin and deep brown eyes drew Evie’s glance again and again. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t make herself stay away.

On her last night in town, she and the girl sat together drinking in a private room while Nirwe waited for her 9pm appointment. Cici was busy serving brandy in the parlor.

“You are far from home, here in Anvil,” she said to the girl. 

“Yes, it was a long road, finding myself here.”

“Will you tell me the story”

The girl shook her head.

“I don’t talk about my past,” she said quietly.

Evenstar studied her. There was a sadness in her eyes as well that brought Elaara to mind. Which of course also brought to mind the moment when Elaara had asked Evenstar to make her forget. If only Evenstar could now forget.

“I understand,” she said to Nirwe. “I don’t like to talk about my own. What of this life? Do you like it?”

The girl’s mouth twisted and she gave a mirthless laugh.

“Like spreading my legs for random men? No. I don’t like it. But you will not hear me complain. There are worse places to land. And Cici is kind. She pays us very well. And we always have final authority to refuse, for any reason.”

“Have you ever? Refused?”

“Once. There was a man, oh he was attractive, but there was something in his eyes. I looked at him and was scared. I feared he would hurt me. I told Cici no. When I saw his face after I refused, I knew I had made the right choice.”

“You were wiser than I was, then.”

“What do you mean?”

Evenstar shrugged uncomfortably, why had she said that?

“Once, years ago, I was faced with the same choice. But I didn’t refuse. I took the man home with me. He hurt me.”

“How badly?” asked the girl. Her lack of sympathy was bracing. Evie found she could tell the rest of it without emotion.

“Badly enough. He nearly strangled me. But I knifed him in the kidney. He’ll never hurt another woman.”

The girl looked at her with the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“You and Cici are cut from the same cloth. This man I refused, he hit Cici across the face when she told him to leave. She pulled a dagger out of nowhere and slit his throat, cool as you please. Just asked me to grab a mop and a bucket.”

“Yes, a woman must be hard in this world. Cici and I have learned this”

Nirwe cocked her head as she considered this.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t think Cici is hard. Or...not on the outside anyway. It isn’t about making a shell for yourself that nothing can penetrate. It’s more about reinforcing your spine with rubedite, right? The old adage about the tree that bends, not breaks in the wind? That’s what a woman must be. Strong, not hard. Cici is incredibly strong.”

Evenstar thought about this. Had she bent for Elaara? She had started to. But then she had gotten scared. 

The door suddenly opened and Cici peered in.

“Nirwe? He is here. Come please. Evie? What are you doing? Looking for a job? Go upstairs, I am done after I settle Rilinar with Nirwe and I will come up. With wine.”

Nirwe rose and smoothed her skirts.

“Nice to speak with you,” she said to Evenstar with a smile. And then she was gone.

Evie made her way upstairs to Cici’s room. Strong, not hard. A lesson that she and Elaara could both learn, perhaps.

Elaara, Elaara. I don’t want to think of you. I want desperately to think of you. Evenstar flung herself onto Cici’s expensive upholstered chair and put her head into her hands. Elaara. Where are you now? Have you defeated Voriak Solkyn? Are you long gone from the arena? Do you remember that night? Do you think of me? Do you miss me?

Cici came in soon after and saw her looking miserable.

“It is that girl that you think of? What was her name?”

“Elaara,” said Evenstar unhappily.

“Tell me about her. Tell me what happened.” She handed Evenstar a glass of red wine.

Evie had managed to put off talk on this subject for the past three days. But now she felt an urge to talk about Elaara. Nirwe had put Elaara into her mind and now Evie could not get her out.

She stared down into the glass. How to begin?

“She’s...perfect. She looks perfect. She’s so fair, but warm. She has gorgeous hair. Her eyes are enormous. Her mouth is...Cici you just can’t imagine. She’s like a statue she’s so flawless. But it’s her way that I can’t stop thinking about. The way she moves her hands, the way she cocks her head, purses her lips, throws her head back. The way she always has to think. To take a moment. She’s so smart, Cici. It’s insane. The way she talks. She’s like royalty or something. I mean, she is nobility. Fancy Altmer family. Born in a gracious mansion I’m sure. But she doesn’t give a fuck for that. She just wants to succeed. To win. At everything. She’s so driven. I’ve never met anyone like her. It’s all she cares about. She works so hard. She never gives up, she never backs down. She never stops thinking. You can almost hear her thinking sometimes. The wheels turning. But then she has this other side that she keeps hidden. No one knows about it. Nobody gets to see it. Well, almost no one. She let me see it. Just the beginning. But I was desperate for more. I thought…”

She stopped and sighed.

“What? What did you think?”

“I thought I might fall in love with her. I mean, it was early days. But there was something I’d never felt before. And it was so good between us. When I touched her, when she touched me. It was magic.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“What do you mean? Did you argue?”

“Yes, but I can barely even remember about what. It was more that she’s so very bad at emotion. She doesn’t know how to feel or talk, it’s like she’s scared. It killed me to not know what she was thinking. What was inside her. And sometimes she’s so self-absorbed. She thinks she’s always right...what? What are you smiling at?”

“Dear, my favorite elf, you could be describing yourself. Scared to feel? Unable to communicate? Thinking she’s always right? Impossible to read? Intimidating and confusing? You sound exactly the same.”

That was what Elaara had said: that they were too alike. 

“You don’t understand. I wanted her! I wanted to hold her and adore her and tell her I loved her!”

“You wanted to. Did you?”

“Well, no. But I would have! I just hadn’t yet.”

“Perhaps she wanted to do those same things. But she hadn’t yet.”

“She didn’t. All she cared about was the stupid arena.”

“You know this how?”

“Because!” Evenstar told her the story of the last day, the day they had fought. As she talked she watched Cici’s expression darken. At last she interrupted.

“Enough! I cannot listen any longer. Evie, my good friend, forgive me but it sounds as though you were awful.”

Evenstar looked at her, nonplussed.

“Well, I mean, yes. I was rude. But so was she!”

“Let us think of this from her perspective. She wakes in the morning after her very first experience of love. You are gone. You have not said goodbye, you have sneaked away while she slept.”

“But that was because…”

“Hush. She knows nothing of your reasons. You were gone. She awakens. She is feeling shy perhaps? Maybe a bit embarrassed? She knows that people have heard. Are talking about her. She does not know why you left. Do you regret things?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“Evie, quiet! She does not know. She wonders. There is always the doubt, when you wake in the morning. Alone. The rush is over, the reality sets in. She has touched a woman. She struggles. You say she is, what is the word? Cerebral. Too much in her head. She cannot face the camp, or you. She worries. She is nervous, unsure. So she sneaks away. Gives herself time to think. But after she has the time, she comes to you. She comes to you first to share news she is excited about. She seeks you out in front of everyone to tell you her joy and pride. And you bark at her.”

“I didn’t bark!”

“Did you not?”

Evenstar huffed to herself. She had not barked. Had she?

She had. She had been rude. She had not tried to understand. She had thought only of her own feelings of fear and doubt. She had called Elaara names. 

Evie bowed her head. It had been all her fault. She had been scared of Elaara pushing her away. So she had pushed first. She had been hard, not strong.

“You’re right,” she said miserably to Cici. “It was my fault. I’m hopeless. And I was so mean. I called her self-centered and full of herself.”

Cici sighed.

“We all make mistakes.” She spread her hands out wide. “Go find her cherie. And apologize.”

“I’m not sure. I think we had our chance.”

Cici made a face at her.

“That’s nonsense. Since when do you give up? On anything? I cannot believe you’ve given up on this arena, terrible as it sounds. You should certainly not give up on this girl.”

Evenstar sat and thought. And drank. Cici got up and moved about the room. Eventually she came back over with a box, wrapped in pretty paper.

“Here. A gift. From me. I tried to give you a different one once. I don’t know if you will like this one any better. But I want you to have it. It will be good for you.”

Evie took it and turned it up and down. It was small, but heavy. She unwrapped it slowly and opened the box.

It was a knife, a beautiful one. It was not made in the style of an assassin’s dagger, but it would certainly do the same job. It was thin and very sharp. The hilt was made of ivory, and inlaid with some sort of black stone. It had a sheath, and a belt to wear it around the waist. It was very feminine. And very serious. 

She looked up at Cici.

“I have seen you reach for a dagger a dozen times in the last three days. I understand why you threw yours away. And I’m proud of you. You are no longer a killer. But you are a woman who will not be trifled with. Our past is our past my dear, we cannot run from it. Do not try to be other than you are. Carry this, not in secret, but in the open. And think of your Cici when you do. And come back and visit me. And bring your Altmer with you when you do.”

Evie looked at the knife. Maybe Cici was right. It was time to stop being ashamed of her past. She did not need to celebrate it, but she did need to build on it. And a part of her would always be that girl who lived under a dock and grew up rough. She had taken care of herself since she was ten years old. She had done would she must, what she could. And maybe there had been no right choices. Perhaps she could become the staff. But in many ways, she would always be the knife. Elaara would have to understand that. Assuming Evenstar could find her. And that Elaara would have her.

She stood up and fastened the belt around her waist.

“You are the very best friend I could hope for,” she told Cici.

“True,” agreed Cici. “Do not forget it again and try to go without me for so long.”

“I promise.”

“You’re leaving right now, aren’t you?”

“You know me well. I want to go home tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll go back to Maelstrom and look for her. I doubt she’ll be there, but it’s the first place I should check. If she’s not there, I don’t know. I’ll go to Summerset. I’ll search the length and breadth of the fucking place. I’m going to find her.”

“I wish you luck. Make sure you are properly apologetic when you do find her. Don’t be all stiff and moody and Dunmer about it.”

“I’ll do my best. But Elaara will have to take me as I am.”

“If she loves you then she will. And you will do the same for her. We are none of us easy. But that does not mean we are not worth it.”

“She’s definitely worth it.”

“And so are you, my Evie.”

Cici came close and put her arms around Evenstar. But instead of hugging her, then releasing her, Cici tilted her head back and looked up at Evie.

“One kiss? For old times? And new ones. I do not think your Altmer will mind.”

Evenstar rather disagreed. She thought that Elaara would mind very much--if she would even speak to Evie. Elaara did not seem like the type to willingly share.

But she leaned down and pressed her mouth to Cici’s, one sweet but short kiss on Cici’s closed lips. She felt...nothing. Thank the gods. She pulled away and smiled.

“Thank you. For everything.”

Cici’s reply floated behind her, Evie was already pressing her hand to the snow globe. She would find Elaara now. In this, she would not fail.

Strange to port from the heat and humidity of Anvil to the coolness of her home. Snowflakes stung her cheeks as she stepped out of the portal. It was later here, the middle of the night. A light burned by her door though, looking welcoming. As she unlocked her door she heard Buttercake come running. She had left the guar here, to sleep in the stable and eat hay with the horse. Or to catch bugs if she could. Though the property was contained within a snowglobe, the number of bugs seemed to remain steady, rather than dwindling under Buttercake’s avid attention. Now she picked the guar up and kissed her, as she had once watched Lleran do.

“You’re a spoiled girl,” she told the guar. “Come and sit with me.”

It was late, but she wasn’t tired. Instead, she made herself some tea and sat in front of her fire, watching the flames, stroking Buttercake, and rocking. Since leaving Maelstrom two months ago, Evenstar did not know what she wanted anymore. Buying this house and furnishing it had used a large portion of her money. She would need an income at some point in the future. But what sort of career could she hope to have? And how could she ever work regularly at any job when she had to live in secret? It felt like her whole life was in limbo. One thing could not happen before another and it was not clear which thing needed to happen first. And she did not have the enthusiasm for any of them until she found and spoke with Elaara.

Eventually the dawn crept through her windows. She rose, changed clothing, and repacked her bag. The guar hopped around her, whuffling and snuffling.

“Yes, Butterbaby. You can come.”

Who knew how long she’d be gone. She would return to Maelstrom to look for Elaara. But she had a bad feeling about finding her there. 

Nevertheless she shouldered her pack, whistled for the guar to follow, and locked her front door. She’d been home four hours. She concentrated her mind on Maelstrom and felt the snowglobe dissolve around her. Her feet felt stone and sand and she opened her eyes to the half-light of the pocket realm. Time to set things right.

Chapter Twenty

Elaara was gone from Maelstrom. It was early morning and people were just beginning to wake and begin preparations for the day. Evenstar skirted the perimeter of the camp, making for Elaara’s tent on the far edge. But by the time she was halfway there she could see the tent was gone. There was another in its place, but the angle was changed and the fabric was a different color. Still she went all the way to the spot, peering around in desperation. Maybe Elaara had simply moved her tent.

Luvaris was sitting outside of his own tent, plucking gently at some sort of small lute-like instrument. He looked up at her as she wandered past.

“She’s gone,” he told her quietly. “She left a few weeks ago.”

“Elaara did? Do you know where she went?”

He looked at her with a wry expression.

“Well, yes! She came over and we gabbed for a while about her dreams and plans. Then we brushed each other’s hair and shared a sujamma. She told me everything.”

Evenstar sighed.

“I take it that’s a no.”

“It is. To be honest, I didn't even know Elaara was her name. She did not tell me goodbye. Or ever even hello, for that matter. But I saw her packing up her tent one morning as I was preparing for the arena. And when I came back she was gone.”

“Shit. Gods damn it. I’m a fool. Why did I wait so long?”

He looked at her without speaking, still strumming at the lute.

“Luvaris? Will you do me a favor?”

“Surely, Sera. If it is within my power.”

“If you see her again, if she comes back, tell her Evie was looking for her. Tell her…” she thought hard. What clue would be safe to leave? She did not know or trust this man an inch. “Tell her to seek a glass orb from a scarlet faerie.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing clearer you wish to say? Not that I expect her to return.”

Evenstar hesitated. Did she dare be more specific? No. This camp had ears. She could not endanger Cici any more than she had. And he was right, almost certainly Elaara would not return here. Except…

“Had she beaten it? The arena?”

“I do not know for certain. But I think not.”

Curious. Why would Elaara leave? Never mind. This Dunmer had no info.

“Thank you. One more thing, is Guilbert still here?”

He looked down and picked out a complicated tune on his strings.

“The little Breton with the beard? I do not know if he survived. He was gravely injured. I heard that the Tutor himself tried to heal him. In any case he is gone. I know nothing more about him.”

Evenstar gasped. Guilbert fatally injured? She whirled away from Luvaris without a goodbye and ran to the building where Fa-Nuit-Hen and Tutor Riparius played mastermind to this ridiculous game of life and death. 

“Where’s Guilbert?” she burst out, the instant she was inside.

Fa-Nuit-Hen ignored her, he ignored everything that did not have to do with his precious arena.

The Tutor turned slowly towards her.

“Gone, elf. A fortnight ago he fell to Voriak Solkyn himself, as so many do.”

“Is he dead?” she demanded hysterically. If he was, she might slit Fa-Nuit-Hen’s throat this instant. The tiny fucker had his back to her as if he couldn’t care less for the life of a mortal, which of course was true. It was all nothing but a show to him; a fascinating entertainment that never failed to delight.

The Tutor looked at her for a long moment.

“He was flung from Solkyn’s elevated ring and struck his head upon a rock. He was not dead when I pulled him from the arena, but he was close to it. I myself healed him. But there may be lasting damage to his brain. He was not awake when he was taken home. There my knowledge ends. And my concern. To care for mortals is a futile exercise, we have found.”

“Yes,” she said bitterly. “Watching us die is nothing but a sport to you.”

At this, Fa-Nuit-Hen turned to look at her. She felt a shiver of fear as he gazed at her.

“A game, elf, yes. But one that you chose. What is a mortal life, a seed in the wind? A tick of the clock? To die for the entertainment of the ever-living is as worthy a purpose for your tiny existence as any other.”

“Is that so?” she asked coolly. “I can think of better.” 

“Can you?” asked the Daedra with a sneer. “Which one have you picked?”

She didn’t answer and Fa-Nuit-Hen laughed and turned away.

“As I thought,” he said. “Riparius, we have other competitors arriving. Deal with this.”

“Go, elf,” the Tutor told her. “Seek the Breton in Daggerfall, if you so desire. Whether you will find him or his tomb I cannot say.”

“What of Elaara?” she asked, pressing her luck.

Riparius closed his eyes. Was he trying to locate her telepathically or just attempting to forget that Evie was still standing there? Finally he opened them again.

“The Altmer departed for Summerset. Whether she remains there now I do not know. Now go.”

She went.

She stood at the wayshrine unhappily. What now? But there was only one choice. As much as she wanted to chase Elaara, as much as she felt the passing of every minute now as Elaara moved further away, she must go check on Guilbert. He was injured, possibly dead. It need not be a long visit, but she could not fail to make it.

She had not been to Daggerfall. What was the closest wayshrine she could use? Ugh, Wayrest. That was a long ride. And time was so precious now. But there was nothing else to do but leave as quickly as possible. She gathered Buttercake close and traveled. 

Wayrest; noise and crowds and the sound of gulls and waves. The smell of the sewers. She did not even stay for an hour. She called at the Inn, bought some food, and mounted up. Time to ride. 

The guar disliked riding in a pack or a saddle bag, but they must make good time. Buttercake squawked as she was shoved into the pocket attached to the saddle.

“Sorry baby,” Evie told her. “But those little legs can’t keep up. We go!”

She kicked the horse and they were away. Run, walk, trot, walk, rest, run. They were close to the border of Glenumbra by nightfall. She had no tent, but she was exhausted by the previous night’s lack of sleep, and had no trouble sleeping rough under a tree just beyond sight of the road. Night passed swiftly and they were underway again at dawn. 

The country flew by on both sides of them. A rocky place, it would have reminded her of home, but it lacked the lushness. Scraggly trees, limp grass and fetid swamps replaced the giant mushrooms, bubbling brooks and waving fields of Vvardenfell. But the sky remained clear at least, and they made good time. Still, they would not make Daggerfall that day either. 

It was the following day at noontime before they finally arrived in Daggerfall, dusty and saddlesore. Buttercake wiggled out of the saddlepack the moment Evie slipped down off the horse. She handed the reins to a groom at the stable with a distracted thank you.

She was gazing around. The city was huge. How would she ever find Guilbert in this place? He had told her his last name when he had first introduced himself, but she had forgotten it now.

“Do you know a man named Guilbert?” she asked the stable boy. “He’s married to a woman named Marie?”

The young man shook his head mutely. She sighed and turned away, trying to dredge up anything Guilbert had told her about his life that might serve as a clue. 

But in the end she could think of nothing, and had no better plan than to walk the streets of the residential district of the city, stopping and making inquiries of random strangers. On the nineteenth try, she struck gold.

“Guilbert and Marie Vertouth? Yes, they live round the corner, over there. Green shutters,” a round and red-haired woman told her. She was chasing a round and red-haired pig.

Dreading the answer, Evie made herself ask:

“Is Guilbert...alright? I had heard he was injured.”

The woman nodded affirmative.

“Yes, badly injured. But he lives, last I heard. Tell Marie I will come by tomorrow with a ham. If I can catch it.” She waddled away after her pig.

Evenstar rounded the corner and found the little stone house with green shutters. She stood outside it feeling nervous and awkward. Just as she was making up her mind to knock, the door flew open and a tiny, dark woman bustled out. She turned around to shut her door, still walking, and knocked directly into Evie, who grabbed the woman’s arm to steady her.

“Oooh!” said the woman, startled. “Who are you? Why are you loitering on the stoop?” 

The woman wore an empty cloth bag over her arm. Evenstar would have bet money that this was Marie, and that she was off to the market. She resembled, in every way, the picture Evie had in her mind of Guilbert’s wife. She was small, tidy, pretty, and flustered. She had very dark hair and eyes, and her skin was olive. Though she was at least twenty years older than Evie, her face was unlined. Her nose was sprinkled with freckles.

“Are you Marie? I’m sorry I was standing on the steps. I was working up the courage to knock. I’m a friend of Guilbert’s from the arena. I’ve come to see how he is; I heard he was injured.” 

The woman seemed to grow two inches at these words as her eyes flared and her mouth opened.

“Don’t even mention that arena to me!” she said angrily. “A terrible, terrible place. And a terrible decision. Why anyone in their right mind would go there…”

She trailed off, eyeing Evenstar with doubt, clearly suspicious that she was dealing with another person incapable of good judgment.

“I agree,” said Evenstar. “Personally, I’ve quit. Doubt I’ll ever return. But tell me, how is he? Will he live? Will he recover?”

Marie nodded.

“Oui. He will live. I was not sure, until just a few days ago. He had not woken, not opened his eyes. I had every healer I could find here. None seemed to make any improvement. He lay there, not eating and only drinking when I poured water down his throat. But then he woke up. He woke up and started talking to me. He does not walk yet. I am hopeful that will come.”

She gave a gesture of helplessness.

“Go in if you like. He is on a bed in the living room. I am going to the market to buy a ham. Florencine said she would bring me one, but I have seen neither it nor her.”

Before Evenstar could respond to this Marie had bustled away. She turned back to the door and, steeling herself, went inside.

It was not as bad as she had been worried it would be. Evenstar hated and feared weakness, and she had been scared to see him lying depleted and defeated in bed. But Guilbert had not lost his spirit, and he did not give her long to lean solicitously across his sickbed before he lit into her.

“At least I did not quit. He had to hit me in the head with a boulder and throw me into a lava pool to take me out of it. And I may still go back. If Marie ever lets me out of her sight again. Which I doubt. But you...bah. I can’t believe you left. You quit. You ran! You ran and it wasn’t even from Voriak Solkyn, it was from a skinny little Altmer with puppy eyes. Was she so frightening that you couldn’t stick it out? Did she defeat you with her eyelashes and nimble tongue? You claim to be such a badass. But you’re a coward. Hmmph.”

He lay back and watched her. His little beard was still neat and closely trimmed. Marie must clip it for him. They were so in love, so good to each other. Could Evie ever be like that? Be trusting and kind and good to someone? Suddenly she was jealous of him and what he had in Marie.

“I hope you don’t go back,” she told him. “I hope you stay here and appreciate what you have. You do know what you have, don’t you?”

“A wife who ties me to the bed?”

But he smiled, and she knew that he agreed.

“Winning in that place is no key to happiness,” he told her. “That is true.”

“Watchmakers do not need to call themselves Stormborn.”

“They do not. Neither do lost-soul Dunmer who don’t have a clue what they want in life and can’t even get over an argument with their girlfriend.”

“How do you know we had an argument?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Everyone knew. But one answer is that she told me.”

This stunned her.

“Elaara did? She told you?” Hard to believe.

“Oui. She asked me if I knew where you lived. If only I did.” He looked at her with disappointment. 

“I live in a snowglobe,” she told him.

“Too late, cherie. I did not know and I could not tell her. She was very flustered. Very...not Elaara. I think…”

He paused.

“What? What do you think? Did you tell her anything? What did she say?”

“She said she had realized something that she needed to tell you.”

“About what? Did she say?” Evenstar’s heart was thumping.

“About the arena.”

“The arena?” Her heart slowed. The stupid arena again.

“Don’t look like that. She hadn’t beaten it, or anything like that. This was different. She was quite desperate to find you. She didn’t say so, but I think she left to look for you.”

“Well, where did she go?” This was a rhetorical question. Evenstar felt so simultaneously excited and frustrated that she could barely talk. She knew Guilbert would have no idea where Elaara had gone.

But he smiled.

“Shimmerene,” he said.

“What? Where’s that?”

“A town in Summerset. Don’t ask me where, I try to stay away from Altmer.”

“Why would she go to Shimmerene? Is that her home?”

He made a noise in his throat.

“I don’t know. Why do women do anything that they do? This interrogation is exhausting. I’m an injured man, you know. That fucking sicko flung me thirty feet down. I actually heard the crack when my head hit. Disgusting!”

“Poor baby,” she pouted at him. “Does your dick still work?”

“What do you care? The only thing you think about is Elaara’s pretty mouth between your legs.”

“Totally fair. I spend a lot of time thinking of that. But your dick occurs to me every so often too. In nightmares.”

“Fuck you,” he told her with affection.

“Fuck you too,” she told him, and kissed his cheek.  
“You are changed,” he told her. “Different from when you first arrived at Maelstrom.”

“Oh? Is it good or bad?”

“Good, I think. You are less hard. I am not sure the old you would have come here.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think she is good for you. And you are good for her. Go find her. Go to Shimmerene, and if she isn’t there, keep looking.”

She stood up.

“That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“Thank you for coming,”

“Well it was a huge pain in the ass. I’ll be honest about that. Quite literally, my ass is throbbing.”

“Wait till Elaara wears the strap-on.”

“You didn’t just say that.”

“Tell her to go slowly.”

“Stop talking.”

“Goose grease can help.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Good luck!”

“And to you. Get better quickly. Don’t go back to Maelstrom. And Guilbert? If you need to find me? Talk to Cici at the Ruby Nixad in Anvil.”

She let herself out into the sunshine. Buttercake was digging a hole in the garden, she was filthy.

“Naughty!” she scolded, kicking dirt into the hole to refill it. “No digging!”

She cranked up a bucket of water from a nearby well to wash off the guar. Shimmerene. What could it mean? Maybe Guilbert had it wrong, and Elaara was not looking for her. Maybe she had simply gone home. Maybe she was in Shimmerene now. Evie had never been to Summerset. She would need to catch a ship there. More delay, more time. She ran through a mental list of wayshrines she could port to now. Skyreach would be best, she decided. Then she could ride to Vulkhal Guard and catch a ship for Summerset. She did not know where ships landed on that island. But the first step was to find the wayshire in this city.

She flung the bucket of cold water over Buttercake. The guar squawked and shook.

“Let’s go,” Evie told her, sighing. “We’re off to the land of the high elves. At least the weather will be good.”

The weather was good. Even Evenstar, Dunmer with rock and fire in her blood, had to admit that this island was as pretty a place as she had ever seen. And there had been other good news as well: ships sailed from Vulkhal Guard directly to Shimmerene. She had caught the first one leaving the docks in Auridon and the crossing had taken only one night. Now she and Buttercake walked through the streets admiring the beauty of the town. 

Evenstar was not eager to begin questioning random people on the city streets, as she had done in Daggerfall. And this time at least, she had a last name to offer. She decided to start in the tavern. She might need a room for the night anyway, and a drink sounded phenomenal. The Anchors Aweigh looked promising. She went inside.

Evenstar seated herself at the bar and looked around. It was midday and the room was empty except for woman sweeping. Seeing Evenstar, she rested her broom against the wall and came around the bar.

“What can I get you?’ she asked.

“Do you have sujamma?” Evie asked hopefully.

The woman made a face.

“No. Nothing like that. What about a glass of the local vintage?”

“Fine,” said Evenstar. “Whatever you have. I’ll need a room too. And can I ask a question? I’m looking for a girl. A young woman. Her name is Elaara Loreoth. I think she might live here in town.”

The woman thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t think she lives here. At least, not anymore, if she did at one point. It’s not a big place. If she lived here I’m pretty sure I’d have heard something about her. But I’m new in town myself, haven’t been here but for three months. What does she look like?”

Evenstar described Elaara, giving rather too much detail in hopes of jogging a memory. As she spoke, she watched the woman’s face change. 

“Do you know her then?” she asked.

“No. I don’t. But, it’s so strange, the way you’re describing her...there was a man here a few days ago asking after the exact same woman I think.”

“A man? Who?” Evenstar was confused.

“Well I don’t know him either. Big sexy hunk of an elf with a bushy blond beard and long hair.”

Evenstar did not like the sound of this at all.

“Asking after Elaara?”

“Well he didn’t know her name. He had seen her though, and he wondered if I knew her name.”

“He’d seen her here?”

“Yes, the day before. He wanted to find her. Talk to her.”

“Hmmm.”

A big blond Altmer looking for Elaara. Why? She’d pictured the boys chasing Laara as prissy, with tiny beards. Not large and vital with big beards. What if he found her? Would Elaara be interested in a man? With a bushy beard? From the tone of the bartender’s voice, he was worth being interested in. Damn, damn. But Elaara had been here. Evie was on the right track anyway.

“But he didn’t find her, as far as you know.”

“No. He couldn’t do much looking either, with another woman in his bed.”

“He already had a woman with him?” Curiouser and curiouser.

“Yes. Tiny little thing. Red-headed Breton. She seemed like a jealous little cat. Hardly let him out of her sight.”

Oh my. It couldn't be, could it?

“This little Breton, was she pretty? Did she look like money, dress in blue and have a pouty mouth?”

“Yes, maybe,” said the woman grudgingly. “I suppose you’d call her pretty. If you’re into that sort of thing. Delicate little flower or whatever. Wore her hair in a fancy braid. Tossed her head a lot.”

“If you’re talking about who I think you are, she may look delicate, but she’s not. You didn’t catch a name did you? Little Greenleaf by chance?”

“He only called her his Rose,” said the woman with an eye-roll.

“These two, the Breton and the big Altmer, they’re gone now?”

“Yes. I think they got married. He was asking about places. Anyway they left a few days ago. Maybe three or four.”

“He wanted Elaara, but he married the Breton. Strange. Any idea where they were headed?” Please please please please gods.

“Alinor. I heard him say it.”

“Thank you.” Evenstar slid off the stool immediately and began pulling coins out of her pocket. 

“Did you want a room?” the woman asked in confusion.

“No, I don’t. I’ve got to follow those two to Alinor. Maybe that’s where Elaara went. Maybe that’s why they went there. I don’t know why he wanted her, but I want her too.”

The bartender looked put out.

“This girl is being chased by a crowd of men and women alike and I can’t even get Denant to ask me out on a single date when I told him straight out I wanted him!”

Evenstar kept her opinions to herself on this issue. Instead she shouldered her pack and bid the woman a good afternoon. It would be another long ride, but she hoped to make it to Alinor tonight.

The Golden Gryffin was dark and empty at midnight when Evenstar pushed through the door. She had to ring the bell on the desk twice before the grumpy proprietor appeared in his pajamas. 

“I need a room,” she told him wearily. He pushed a key across the desk as she stacked gold coins in front of her.

“And have you seen a little red-headed Breton woman? She might be traveling with a big Altmer man?”

“You’ve got the room next to them,” he told her. “Good luck, they’ve been making noise all night.” He rolled his eyes to indicate what sort of noise it was. But Evenstar smiled. If the man was spending all night naked with his “Rose,” then he likely wasn’t chasing Elaara in hopes of getting her naked. Though on the other hand, men. Just because they had one didn’t mean they weren’t open to the idea of another. But if it was Little Greenleaf, Evenstar doubted she’d allow that sort of funny business. Unless, could she be into threesomes? Evenstar felt something stab her in the gut at the idea of Elaara and Little Greenleaf together. Of course, if she herself were there, that would be something different. All three of them? Together. Naked.

“Was there something else?” the innkeep asked impatiently. She’d been standing at the counter staring into space, gripping the key.

“No. Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Not me, thank the gods. It’s the wife’s turn to do the morning.” He turned away and shuffled off through a door. 

Evie made for the staircase, her mind still swirling with pictures of red and brown hair mingled on a pillow, white and golden hands on her own dark skin.

It probably wasn’t Leaf anyway. There were thousands of little redheaded Bretons in the world, right? And if it was her, which it wasn’t, she’d clearly found the man she’d been searching for. EIther that or given up and found a new one. So why were they asking after Elaara? Or was it all just a giant coincidence? They were looking for some other brown-haired, brown-eyed, slim-necked Altmer with a large bosom and a cool demeanor. Surely there were thousands of those as well. 

Evenstar unlocked the door to her room and went in. She threw her stuff down onto the floor and fell into bed fully clothed. Buttercake jumped up into bed with her. The guar was dirty and a bit smelly, but Evenstar didn’t protest. She rolled onto her side to make more room and fell immediately asleep, exhausted.

She had intended to wake up early, and she did. If there had been additional noise last night from the room next door she had not noticed it. But she did not want to miss the occupants leaving. She was seated downstairs at a table, eating whatever leaves and fruits the Altmer considered breakfast when the man came down.

She knew it was him immediately. He was huge: tall with enormous muscles. His arms looked as large as her own thighs. He had long blond hair, some of it gathered up in a knot in the back. He was covered in tattoos, she had a few herself and recognized the time (and pain) he had sunk into this art. He had a thick beard, and piercing blue eyes. He was very...male. She imagined pheromones rolling off of him in waves. Female eyes across the room turned his way as he came down the stairs. She supposed he was quite impressive, if you were into that sort of thing. Which she was not. But there was something in his face, or maybe his mouth that made her look closer. Was it a coolness, a certain set to his expression? Curious, he almost reminded her of…

Her musings broke off as another figure came down the stairs, this one yawning and looking grumpy.

“But why do we need to leave so early?” Little Greenleaf asked. Her tone suggested it was not the first time they had discussed it.

“Because, Rose, my dear one, my precious darling wife, it’s a very long ride and I want to sleep in a bed with you tonight. Or not sleep in a bed with you. Either way, I want the bed. I’ve spent too many nights lately sleeping on the ground.”

Little Greenleaf looked partially convinced by this argument. She ceased complaining anyway, and looked around the room. Her gaze swept past Evenstar the first time, then back to her and Little Greenleaf’s eyes opened wide.

“Evenstar? Of all the people to run into! You are far from home! How are you?”

Evie stood up and walked over to the pair of them. She gave Leaf a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m well, all things considered. How are you? Can I take it that you found him at last?” She gestured at the tall man.

“You can! I did find him. And I kept him. Evenstar, this is my husband Freyr Ice-First. Freyr, this is Evenstar--I’m sorry, I don’t think you ever told me your last name--we met last year in Vivec City.”

Evie shook the big man’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she told him. 

“Likewise,” he told her. “So she was boring you with stories about me even back then?”

“They weren’t boring,” she assured him. “I’m glad the star-crossed lovers found each other. It gives me hope I might find a certain someone of my own that I seem to have lost.”

They both looked at her expectantly.

“The thing is, I think maybe you are looking for her too?” As she said these words she felt how silly they were. Now they were both looking at her in confusion and she almost didn’t have the will to go on.

“Ummm. See I’m looking for my friend, I mean, she’s more than that, I want her to be my girlfriend. She already is. Sort of. But we had a fight, I left. It was stupid. When I came back she was gone. Someone told me they thought she’d gone to Shimmerene, so I trailed her there. I was asking about her at the inn. They hadn’t seen her, but they said someone else had been asking questions about her. She’s tall and classy as fuck. An Altmer with long brown hair and big brown eyes and sort of a bitchy look until you see her mouth. Then you can’t look away. Anyway, somebody else was looking for her. Asking about her. ”

She felt the awkwardness of this quite strongly now as she finished.

“I think,” she said, turning to Freyr. “I think it was you.”

These words had the same effect as dropping a dead Vvardvark onto the table during a dinner party.

Both Freyr and Little Greenleaf took a physical step backwards. Leaf turned towards Freyr with anger written all over her face.

“I thought you said that was nothing! That girl at the Anchors Aweigh? Are you telling me you went and asked about her? Not in front of me, that’s for sure. You snuck out? If it was nothing, why was it a secret? And what in the fuck are you asking about her for? Gods, Freyr. You lying ass.”

Oh Gods. Look what she’d done. She had known this was strange and weird and sticky. And now she’d started a lover’s quarrel, quite possibly for nothing because she still didn’t even know if it was Elaara the man had been after.

Freyr looked pained. He actually closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and addressed himself to his wife.

“I did not lie. I never said I hadn’t asked about her. What I said was that it wasn’t like that and it isn’t. I wasn’t asking about her so that I could hit on her!”

“Wouldn’t do any good anyway,” broke in Evenstar in an attempt to set the record straight, “she’s into girls.”

Freyr gave her a you’re-not-helpful look and turned back to Little Greenleaf.

“I told you at the time, there was just something about her. It wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t attraction, it was...something else.” He finished a bit lamely. Little Greenleaf was looking at him now as if he was the dead Vvardvark.

“Anyway, as Evenstar is telling you, the woman working knew nothing about her and she was gone by then. So there’s nothing to be angry about.”

“There’s plenty to be angry about! You and your ‘something else.’ Bullshit.” said Little Greenleaf angrily and she walked out of the Golden Gryffin.

Freyr watched her leave, then turned back to Evie. He did not look happy.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to look meek. “I should have seen that would happen. I didn’t know you’d asked about Elaara in secret, though. In my defense. But I’m sorry.”

He sighed.

“Did you think I knew something about her?” he asked. “It sounds like you know way more than I do. I didn’t even know her name. And I was telling the truth. I don’t even know what made me ask about her. It wasn’t because I was interested in getting her in bed. I’ve got all the woman I can handle,” he said, gesturing to the door. “Maybe more than I can handle.”

“Yes,” agreed Evenstar.

“Something about her caught my eyes was all. I just wondered...I don't know. I feel like everything I say digs a deeper hole. I sound like an ass. She’s right, dammit. I hate that.”

“I’m really sorry. I’m just so desperate to find her, I convinced myself you might have come here because you were following her. That’s clearly not true.”

He looked surprised.

“Definitely not. Honestly, I’d forgotten her. We’re here looking for information on my family.”

“Your family?”

“Yes. My real family. I was raised by a foster family in Eastmarch. I was lost--or abandoned--at sea when I was a baby. But I have some evidence that I was born in Summerset, maybe up in the north. I’m hoping to find my birth parents here.”

“What a story! And now I’ve thrown a rabid guar into the whole thing. Let me go talk to Leaf.”

“No, I’ll talk to her. She has a right to be angry. I would be too in her shoes. Finish your breakfast. Maybe it won’t take too long to set things straight. My wife is full of fire, but she knows I love her to distraction.”

“Alright. Good luck.” She seated herself in front of her breakfast again and resumed poking at it.

So this was a dead end. It had always been a long shot, but she had wanted it so badly that she had almost convinced herself that they knew where Elaara was. Still assuming that it had been Elaara that Freyr had seen. And exactly what was it that had made him look twice? He was suspiciously vague about it. Evenstar didn’t blame Leaf for being angry. Sure, he hadn’t done anything really wrong, but he hadn’t had the opportunity. Never mind. It wasn’t her business. The point was that they knew even less than she did, and the trail was completely cold.

Still, she knew Elaara came from Summerset, and she knew that she had returned here. This was the capital, and the biggest city on the island. And Evenstar had always imagined that Elaara came from the city. She was so polished. She had a city elegance. So even though she had followed a false trail to Alinor, it wasn’t necessarily a waste. The only thing to do now was to start looking. 

She shoveled the strange leaves into her mouth and stood up from her table. Best get started with her inquiries, As she was fishing in her pockets for coins to leave on the table, Little Greenleaf pushed the door open and reentered the inn. She still didn’t look happy, but Freyr trailed behind her looking relieved. She walked straight up to Evenstar.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “We’re just recently married. So sometimes my husband is a little unclear on proper protocol. Like not sneaking out of the room and asking about other women behind my back.”

Evie winced. Freyr put his hand over his face.

“But anyway. I’m glad we ran into you. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I’d like so much to sit and talk, but we’re leaving this morning, right now really, and I don’t know when we’ll return. But let me tell you something I haven’t even told Freyr yet.”

The big man took his face out of his hand and watched his wife with caution.

“I bought a house, here in Alinor. It’s a townhome up on the hill. It’s nice. Stupid snotty High Elves can’t act like I’m not a local anymore. And anyway, I work for the Dominion. I need a base here. So, if you find her, or if you don’t, if life ever calms down and you want to come and have that chat, look for me here. Or send word to my home. Honestly I wouldn’t mind getting a look at this mystery woman who draws every eye.” She glanced at Freyr, whose eyebrows were up near his hairline at the news that his wife had bought a house in Alinor. 

These two, thought Evie, would never have a boring life. She had a moment of deep thankfulness that she and this fiery redhead had never had a chance. Elaara was trouble enough, she did not think she could handle the little Breton. Though as she embraced the girl and felt her small body press against her she thought again that she wouldn’t mind seeing her naked in the candlelight. Or the full sun.

Freyr was looking at her with a twist to his mouth, did he guess her thoughts? This man was deep waters, she realized, not just a lump of muscle with phenomenal hair. Honestly, how did he keep it so smooth? She smiled at him with a little shrug and turned away from them, wishing them luck as she did. 

Time to find her own girl, with a little luck.

But luck was not with her. Three days later and Evenstar had nothing. No one had heard of Elaara Loreoth. No one had seen a woman of her description. No one knew of the family. Not shopkeepers, not priests, not bartenders, not nobles, not commoners, not even the denizens of the Thieves Guild, which she eventually sought in desperation. It was a large city, but not infinitely large. By the end of the third day, Evie had accepted that Elaara was not here now, did not live here, and never had. It was excruciatingly disappointing. But it was the truth.

Her options now were to continue to wander about the island inquiring after one elf among thousands, or to give up and return home. Could she really visit every vineyard, isolated farm, and tiny settlement in hopes of finding Elaara? It might take a year! And there was no saying that Elaara would have stayed here. She might have returned just to visit her family, then left again. And she had said her family was complicated. What did that mean? It had already been close to three months since they had parted. And Elaara was not the type to sit idle. The more that Evenstar considered it, the more she felt that Elaara was not here, and would not be found on the island of Summerset. 

In the late evening of that third day in Alinor, she walked resignedly to the wayshrine and ported to her snowglobe. She could always return to Summerset easily now, but her instinct told her that to search there for Elaara was fruitless. And Evie trusted her instinct. 

As always, the snowglobe was peaceful and comforting. She did not want to think about what this setback meant. She told herself that she had not given up looking for Elaara. She was simply regrouping. She would conceive of a new strategy and begin a fresh search soon. But for tonight she would not think of it. She would sit at the top of her tower and drink this very fine bottle of red she had purchased in Alinor and listen to Buttercake gnaw a stick. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine Lleran across from her. How many glasses of good wine had he handed her, then seated himself in a chair near her and offered up observations and witticisms while his guar played at their feet. She missed his friendship. 

She was sitting with her eyes closed, thinking of Lleran and the old days, not so very old in truth, but feeling as if they were a lifetime past, when there was a chime. Her eyes opened. It was the chime of a person porting into her house. Could Cici be here? Had she come to visit? Or Tanavir? But he wouldn’t come in the middle of the night. Had the Tong found her at last? She stood and peered out from her tower towards the dock where a visitor would find themself upon porting in.

A figure appeared in the darkness. It moved slowly, but walked erect, and made no attempt to avoid the light of the lamp at the top of the dock. This was not a Tong operative. She strained her eyes. The figure was slender, a woman, she thought.

Then it stepped into the circle of lamplight and she saw clearly: it was Elaara. Elaara was here. In her house. 

“Elaara!” she called. She had no thought at all in her head. She had called from pure joy and surprise.

The Altmer paused in the bright glow of the lantern and looked up towards the sound of Evie’s voice. She didn’t speak.

“I’m coming! I’m coming right now!” she shouted down. She yanked the trapdoor open and flew down the stairs, through the house and out the front door. 

Elaara hadn’t moved. She was still standing at the top of the dock.

“Elaara!” Evie said again, coming to a stop in front of her. “You’re here! How are you here?”

The Altmer was looking at her with a strange expression and suddenly Evenstar felt nervous. She had been terrible to Elaara. Would the girl forgive her?

“I found you,” Elaara said at last. She seemed stunned. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking? How little I had to go on? How hard it was to find you? Do you have any idea what you put me through?”

Her voice was shaking. Evenstar felt alarm growing.

“I do! I do know! I’ve been looking for you too; at Maelstrom, in Shimmerene, in Alinor. Do you know how little you left me to go on? How much I wanted to find you?”

“You went to Shimmerene?” Elaara’s beautiful eyebrows came together.

“Yes! I went to Guilbert’s house. He told me you’d gone there. I asked Luvaris, I even asked the Tutor. He’s a goddamn grump. They all said Summerset. But I couldn’t find you. I looked. I looked and looked.”

“I did go to Shimmerene. But not for long. I went home. To Lillandril. To visit my mother. But I couldn’t stay long there either. It was too hard. And I needed to find you. It was all I could think of. All I could see.”

“It was all I could see. I wanted to find you so badly. So I could tell you…”

“What?”

“That I’m sorry.”

“Evie…”

“I know. I was awful. So terrible. But it was fear, Laara. You have to believe me. I was scared. I still am. I don’t know how to fall for you. But please; if you can, forgive me. Let me try again. I’ll do better. So much better.”

“No. I’m the one who is sorry. You were right, about so many things. You came into my life and changed it. So quickly that my head spun. The things I thought mattered, I suddenly found they didn’t matter in the least. When I beat the seventh arena I was so proud of myself. It wasn’t until after you left that I realized the truth: you gave that to me. I had been there months with no progress. None. Then you came into my life and I beat it overnight. It was you. Knowing you. What was the difference? I let go. I let go Evie! And that was everything. After you were gone I had nothing. I felt nothing. I couldn’t make a bit of progress. And you were right about that arena anyway. What is the point? It isn’t real life. It doesn’t matter in the least. If you hate me, if you never want to see me again, I was determined to tell you that. I stood there that day and told you I had been right, that my hard work and logic had won the day...I was an arrogant idiot! You were right. You told me to feel it in my gut. And I did. And I won. And then I took it for myself and made you feel small. I’m so sorry.”

Evie listened to this in disbelief.

“Laara. Bee. That’s...no. It’s your victory. You were right to be proud. I was being a selfish child. I was afraid that when you learned the truth about me you would hate me. That you were better than me, could never love me. That you’d finish and leave me. I’m so ashamed I can barely even say it. But you were not wrong. It was me. I’m the one who should be sorry. And I am.”

“The truth about you? And what is that? Surely I know the important things. I know more than you think.”

“You know nothing. I’ll...I’ll tell you though. Will you come inside?”

Elaara smiled. She looked around.

“I’d never seen snow before I arrived in Wrothgar,” she said. “I love this. It’s warmer here. No wind. But still the snow. It’s calming.” 

She held out her hand for the fat flakes to land upon and melt.

“I love it here,” admitted Evenstar. “Maybe if you love it too you’ll stay for a while. If you’ve forgiven me?”

“Of course I have.Have you forgiven me?” answered Elaara.

“Completely. You must have met Cici if you are here. She told me you were right: we are too alike.”

“Too alike not to argue sometimes. Not too alike to be together. I did meet her, and she told me I was just what you needed.”

“Oh Bee. Is that what you want? To be together?”

Elaara looked down at the ground.

“Is it what you want?” she asked.

“Yes! It is. I want that more than anything. For you to be mine. For me to be…”

“Mine. Yes. I want it too. Shall we try again? A little wiser?”

“Yes. Wiser. And braver. But...the truth. You need to know it. Please come in. I can’t go any further until you know. If you’re going to leave me for good I want to know it now.”

“Evie, there’s nothing you can tell me that will make me leave you.”

Evenstar swallowed her reply. Instead she offered her hand to Elaara, and when the elf took it, she pulled her close. Then she wrapped her arms around Elaara and held her. And Elaara held her. If Elaara left her, if she learned the truth and couldn’t accept Evie, then this would be the last embrace. The last time she would feel this girl in her arms.

She lifted her head from Elaara’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes.

“You have snow in your lashes,” she told her. “You’re so beautiful. The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You make me feel beautiful. No one ever has before. They’ve made me feel trapped, burdened, responsible, respected, needed, maybe even loved. But never beautiful. Never treasured. I didn’t know how nice it could feel.”

“I do treasure you. My smart and sexy baby. And I want you. Badly.” She kissed Elaara’s smooth neck, then raised her head and kissed her mouth. Elaara kissed her back.

Oh Laara. This. Yes, this was everything. You only thought Elaara was shy until she kissed you. In truth she was anything but shy. She was bold and hungry and insatiable. Soft as Evenstar tried to kiss her, it wasn’t long before Elaara opened her mouth and sighed and drew her deeper and harder. And Evie couldn’t resist. Couldn’t get enough of those lips. Again and again she met Elaara with mouths closed, then open, tongues together, licking each other, Elaara biting her lip as she pulled away and then pressing back down on her even harder than before. Evie found herself running her hands down Elaara, dragging her skirts up, trying to hold the fabric up as she slipped her hands over hips and thigh, desperate to feel Elaara’s skin. But the dress was heavy and she kept dropping it. And Elaara was moaning against her mouth, trying to do the same to Evie, but Evie’s skirts were slit in the front and Elaara’s hand slipped easily inside and suddenly her fingers were touching Evie, curled together in the hot wetness, moving, beckoning, so that Evie’s knees went weak and she trembled against Elaara and drew her mouth back, lips barely touching, just looking into those big brown eyes while Laara watched her and moved her hand.

“Like that?” Elaara asked her. “And that?

“Yes. Oh yes.”

“You like it?” She moved her fingers each time, keeping her lips just touching Evie, whispering into her open mouth.

Evie whimpered against her and pushed her hips forward. Gods she wanted this girl.

“You’re so sticky. Just for me,” purred Elaara. She curled and uncurled her fingers. “Can you do it for me? Right here?” She kissed Evenstar once, hard, then pulled back. “I think you can. Come for me, baby.”

Evenstar clung onto her. If she let go, she knew she’d fall. Was she going to let Elaara do this to her, right here, standing up, ten yards from the house, while snow fell on and around them and the guar and the fox chased each other with yips and squawks? Yes. She could feel it building. She was going to let her do it. Beg her to do it. In fact, she could hear herself now telling Laara to keep going, more, more, more. 

Elaara kissed her again, pressing her tongue into Evie’s mouth and trapping her moans and pleas while she moved her fingers faster and Evie held onto her for dear life. Oh gods above and here on Nirn what in the planemeld could be greater than this. Her legs shook and she could barely breathe. Elaara lifted up her mouth and looked Evie in the eyes.

“Now,” she told her. 

Evie agreed. She shuddered against Elaara and came. Waves rolled over her and she closed her eyes and let it take her down and down and down.

“I can’t believe we just did that in my courtyard,” said Evenstar. She felt a little shy. 

“I’ve been dreaming of doing it ever since you did it to me that night. One of my biggest regrets was not doing it to you right then and there. I’ve been cursing myself for not repaying you in kind. I’m glad I had a second chance. I’m glad I did it right.” Elaara sounded a little shy herself.

“Oh my did you do it right. What, did that even take sixty seconds?”

“I don’t think so,” smiled Elaara. “Guess you needed it.”

“I need you,” Evie corrected. She turned from the counter, where she’d been pouring wine into two glasses, and handed one to Elaara.

“Come down into the living room,” she told her. “We’ll sit in front of the fire.”

“It’s a lovely house.”

“Thank you. I love it. I love it even more now that you’re in it. But...how did you find it?”

Elaara sat down and sipped her wine. She sighed and stared into the fire.

“I was angry,” she said finally, with an air of admission. “I was so frustrated that you would leave like that. I threw myself into the arena. I’d made such a huge leap forward, I was convinced the last round would come easily and quickly for me. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. It’s so hard, Evie. It’s so much harder than the seventh round. Solkyn is awful. The whole arena is awful, but him...I felt again like I had when I couldn’t defeat the poison flowers. Like I had before you arrived; when I was hopeless. It was very disheartening. At first I persevered. I told myself of course it was hard. It’s the hardest arena. Everyone knows that. But this time I couldn’t blame it on luck. There’s a rhythm. There’s a method to his madness. I could see it. I knew what I needed to do. But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t good enough. And I could not seem to get better. I was still so angry at you. But I started to think about how I had beaten the seventh round. How you had told me to let go. How that morning I had walked into it not even caring about the arena; all I had on my mind was you and our night together. My mind was full of you, and how you had made me feel. All the ways I wanted to be with you. I had let go without knowing it. I had not thought that day, I had felt. And when I realized that, I understood what you meant. I understood that my success had been, in large part, due to what you had given me. What you had shown me. Taught me. That life is not lived entirely in the mind. It’s felt in the heart.”

She paused and drank more. 

“That’s where I felt you: in my heart. My chest. You were a tightness there. I knew I had been wrong. I had treated you unfairly.”

She raised her hand against Evie’s protests.

“Yes. You were wrong too. You were impatient and you let your fears create motives for me that did not exist. And both of us felt shy about the previous night. It made us awkward. But I realized that many of the things you said had truth to them; among them your point about the foolish arena. You were correct: it doesn’t matter. It’s fantasy. Unimportant. A goal for a person with nothing to lose. And I had something very dear to lose. Something I had maybe already lost. The moment I realized that, I left. It wasn’t despair over the arena, though I felt that. I would have kept going, even knowing I couldn’t beat it. I left because I realized that some things are more important than winning. Another lesson you tried to teach me.”

“I have lessons of my own to learn.”

“Which one shall I teach you first?” Elaara asked with a smile.

“Oh gods. There’s so many to choose from. But before you left, you talked to Guilbert first.”

“Yes. I hoped he would know where you lived. But he didn’t. I’m ashamed to say I don’t even know your last name, well...I didn’t then. I had so very little to go on. I knew you’d been raised in Vvardenfell, but I wasn’t sure you lived there now. But even so I went there. I told Guilbert I was returning to Summerset. But first, I went to Vivec City. I stayed in the inn and drank in the taverns and loitered around the marketplace. I had no family name to inquire about, but I asked a few people if they’d heard of an Evenstar.”

Evenstar felt a prickle of fear at this. She had never dreamed Elaara might ask about her.

“I had no luck. Instead I had a very strange experience. As time passed, I began to feel I was being followed.”

“Laara! Oh no!” Evenstar actually stood up.

“Be easy. I’m not as innocent as you think I am. Once I realized I was being watched, I became quite careful. I wanted to know who was following me, and why. What had I done to attract attention?”

“Ask about me.”

“Yes. I know that now, but at the time I wondered if someone knew who I was. There are secrets you don’t know about me as well. If they did know who I was, I was determined to know how. And what they intended. So I led my shadow a merry chase for days, round and round the city before drawing him out into the wilderness.”

“Oh gods. So dangerous Elaara! These people are not to be trifled with!”

“You mean the Morag Tong?” asked Elaara, quite casually. She might have been remarking on the weather.

“You know…” breathed Evie.

“I didn’t then. But I did after I killed the man.”

“Killed him? A Morag Tong agent!?”

“I am rather a skilled sorcerer,” said Elaara smugly. “I didn’t want to kill him, I wanted to question him. But he tried to kill me and I was forced to put an end to him. Honestly, I was a little shocked. I had done nothing!”

“You’re unbelievable.” Evie was torn between pride in her marvelous girlfriend, and disbelief that the Tong would be so aggressive.

“Indeed. He did not believe it at all. Totally dumbfounded when I stepped out from behind a mushroom and singed his pants off of him. I asked him to tell me who he was. Instead he leaped at me with a knife. The man tried to slit my throat while his own underpants burned! Bit of a fool, really,” she mused.

Evie doubted that. The Tong did not hire fools. But he had clearly misjudged Elaara. An easy mistake if he had been in a hurry.

“So how did you find out who he was? He would never have admitted it.”

“No. And anyway he was too dead to admit anything. I searched his pockets, the ones that hadn’t burned up, anyway. He had this. I brought it to you to show you, but clearly you already know.”

She offered a folded paper to Evie. Evie opened it slowly, and read the contract with her name on it. Exactly what she expected. It was surprising only in that it added a clause to capture or kill anyone with a connection to her. Pure vindictiveness. Her mouth tightened with anger at Velorian. But tist explained things, at least. The man had hoped to capture Elaara, rather than kill her. That was lucky. Though Elaara was skilled, if the Tong had decided to kill her outright, she would almost certainly have not seen them coming. Thank the gods the man had decided to tail her for a few days first.

Elaara finished her cup of wine and leaned forward to set it on the table.

“After I read that, I rather lost interest in asking after you in Vvardenfell. I decided to return to Summerset, as I had told Guilbert I planned, in order to check on my mother. I ported to Shimmerene and rode to Lillandril. I only stayed three days however. Time there is simply too sad now. And I wanted to resume my search for you. I had no leads at all, but I hit upon the idea to return to Maelstrom in hopes you might have gone back. You had. Luvaris said I had missed you by five days. He gave me your message though. Quite a riddle you set me. Thankfully, I’m very good at riddles. And I’d never been to a brothel before. Another new experience courtesy of you.”

“And here you are.”

“Yes. Here I am. Quite ready to hear why no one in your hometown knows who you are, why the Morag Tong has a contract with your name on it, and why your best friend is a notorious madam in a city nowhere near Morrowind, who keeps your house wrapped up in a feather boa on her boudoir. Clearly there is a story here.”

Evie couldn’t help it, she laughed.

“Honeybee, you take the cake. I can’t believe you outsmarted the Morag Tong and found me.”

“I will take some cake, if you have any. I’m starving. And more wine. I feel like I’m going to need fortification before your story starts. My alcohol consumption has increased dramatically since meeting you. Do you know that?”

“Life with you has been pretty dramatic as well. A merry chase I had across three continents for you. Culminating with me trailing a pair of innocent newlyweds to the wrong city and starting a lover’s quarrel, then assaulting various strangers with increasing desperation and zero success. I had returned here tonight to strategize a new plan. I only beat you here by an hour or two.”

She handed Elaara another glass of wine and they touched the rims together in a toast.

“To us,” said Elaara.

“To us,” Evenstar echoed.

“Cake?” asked Elaara.

“I’ve been gone for ages! I have no cake. But let me see.” Evie rooted around in the cabinets and cupboards until she had put together some cheese and sausage and apples.

“Best I can do,” she said, placing it on the table.

“Good enough,” said Elaara. “Now explain things to me while I eat.” She picked up an apple slice.

Evie sat and took a healthy sip of wine. Where to begin? She wanted to tell it all at once, get every alarming detail out and face Elaara’s horror. But though she was still apprehensive, she was not quite as sure of the outcome as she had been when Laara first arrived. It became clear that the girl was not as innocent as she seemed. 

Still, she would not ease into this.

“I’m a criminal,” she burst out. “I’m a murderer. I’ve worked for the Dark Brotherhood and the Morag Tong. I’ve killed 60 people in my life, many of them for no reason other than a paycheck. My soul is so black I doubt even Mannimarco would want it. I was orphaned young and I lived under a dock. I stabbed a guard through the eye when I was ten--my first kill. I lived in alleys, in sewers, on benches in plazas. In tenements and sometimes in jail cells. I stole when I couldn’t afford to eat. I learned to pick locks. I fenced valuables and mingled with the riffraff in every city in Morrowind. I lost my virginity at fourteen to a man who was twice my age and should have seen me as a child. I ran from my best friend when she asked me to face the truth about myself. I asked the only person who has ever loved me to put himself in danger for me and it cost him and his sister their lives. The name I’ve used my whole life isn’t the one I was born with. I’m actually the daughter of two Telvanni wizards, murdered in a power struggle. I have a vow to kill the Master of the Morag Tong, and eventually my parents’ murderers as well. There’s a contract out to kill me, a price on my head--and apparently on the head of anyone who knows me. I’m in hiding, and will be forever. I have no idea how to be a sorcerer. I only found out I could use magic six months ago. I don’t know how to bend. I don’t know how to love. I don’t know why you would stay with me.”

She stopped abruptly and stared at the floor. There was silence. She was too scared to look at Elaara.

“Sixty people?” asked Elaara at last. “That’s fifty-nine more than me.”

The silence stretched out again.

“Laara…” she began, but the elf cut her off.

“I’m going to have some serious catching up to do if I want to be anything close to as big a badass as you.”

Evie lifted her gaze and examined Elaara.

“You’re joking.”

Elaara made a noise of impatience.

“Yes! But on the other hand, no. You are a dangerous woman! I already knew this. We are all what life has made us. And you have had a harder life than most. So you are harder than most. You’ve had to do things most people have never had to consider. Do I like that you have murdered for money? No, Evie, I do not. But I also don’t believe for one second that you like it. My guess is that you despise yourself over it. And that does no good either. You clearly have put that life behind you. I know you well enough to see what sort of a person you are. So don’t try to convince me you’re a criminal, or a bad friend, or an uncaring monster. And I don’t give a, a…” she struggled for the word.

“A fuck?” Evie offered.

“Yes. I don’t give a fuck about whether the worm wizard wants your soul. If he does, he’ll need to fight me for it anyway. Because I have first dibs. And I will kick his pathetic ass.”

They didn’t look at each other. Elaara was breathing hard. Evenstar’s throat was so tight it hurt. After a minute, she slid out of her chair and knelt beside Elaara’s chair. She rested her head on Elaara’s knees and closed her eyes.

Elaara put her hand on top of Evie’s head and let it lay there. They stayed that way for a long time.

At last Evie raised her head and looked up at Elaara. The elf looked down at her.

“It’s late,” said Evie.

“Yes.”

“I’d like to take a hot bath with you. Then I want to bring you downstairs to my bed and make love to you. Then I want to hold you all night long and late into tomorrow morning.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. Can I? Do these things?”

Elaara smiled at her. She stood.

“You may. And I may do some things as well.”

“You already did some things. Very good things.”

“I’m just getting started with things I do.”

“That sounds extremely promising.”

“Indeed. And I think you realize by now that if I’m going to do a thing, I do it properly.”

“I do realize that. May I ask, what thing is it that you’re intending to properly do?”

“You.”

“Oh gods. Maybe we could skip the bath.”

Elaara laughed.

“I’m so dusty.”

“Me too. But...quickly, okay?”

“Like a flash.”

The bath was not, however, over in a flash. For Evenstar discovered that Elaara wet was possibly even sexier than Elaara dry. The way her skin looked even paler under the water, the way her wet hair floated around her and dripped rivulets that ran down over her neck and collarbone and breasts. And the way her breasts themselves looked even rounder, distorted by the water, the level of the bath changing with their movements so now it rose over Elaara, now it sunk away. Evie wanted to run her hands all over Elaara, feel Elaara’s wet hair smooth against her, pull the girl over and atop her and feel their buoyancy. They kissed and kissed, wrapping themselves around each other, murmuring and moaning. But the light was dim in the loft where the tub was, and the bathwater began to cool, and eventually they climbed out, dried off, shivering and ran down into the lower level where Evie’s big bed was waiting and the bright brazier in the hall cast just the right amount of light into the cozy bedroom.

They clung together under the covers, shivering and giggling until they warmed a bit and relaxed.

“You said something earlier,” Evie told her, face pressed into Elaara’s neck, nuzzling her. “About how I didn’t know who you were. What did you mean?”

“Oh. It’s such a long story. I can’t start it now. I will tell you. I don’t want us to have any secrets. But not now. I am Elaara Loreoth though, I didn’t mean I have a different identity. Just that, like you, I discovered only recently that my heritage may come to play more of a role in my life than I ever suspected it would.”

“Mmmmm.” Evie kissed her neck gently. “Hopefully your story is that you’re actually royalty, set to inherit millions and live in a castle on a hill. Not that your parents were murdered and a secret coven of killers was hired to kidnap and enslave you.”

“Actually, you’re not terribly far off on your guess.” Elaara rolled towards her and kissed her mouth. “But the rewards, if I choose to accept them, will come with responsibilities, and a price: before I can claim my castle and my princess-ship I have to beat that horrible arena.”

Evie raised herself up on an elbow. 

“Bee, for real, are you a princess? Are you royal? Related to Ayrenn or something? This sounds crazy!”

Elaara sighed. 

“No, not related to the Queen. Well...actually I probably am. But not closely. I’ve always known I was descended on my mother’s side from the Direnni family--they’re an old, powerful, wealthy Altmer family, though they lived mostly in High Rock. The famous enchantress Raven Direnni was my direct ancestor. But the family has mostly died out, and lost much of their one-time preeminence. But not all. They are still a very well-respected and powerful group. And I was approached by a representative who asked me to come to High Rock, to the Isle of Balfiera and meet with the family. Possibly to consider becoming the Clan Sapiarch.”

“Oh my. Become the leader of the whole family?”

“Yes. It would be an enormous responsibility. And it would be accompanied by enormous power and prestige.”

“And money?”

“Yes, immense wealth, I expect. I don’t care much about that. But they did give me a very nice horse. And my armor. That too was a gift. I met with them months ago, before going to Maelstrom.”

“And what did they say? What did you say?”

“Well, among other things they said I needed to prove myself. At maelstrom.”

Evie rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. It all made sense now.

“So that’s why you said it wasn’t your choice to go there.”

“Yes. It was just another responsibility laid on my shoulders by someone else.”

“But you must have agreed, said you were interested.”

“I did, and I was. But I’ve had more time to think now. At the time, it just seemed like the next step, the next logical thing. But it’s a huge choice. And my success in Maelstrom seems less of a foregone conclusion than it did before I began.”

“How can you say that? You’re at the very end!”

“So close, but yet as far as I’ve ever been. You don’t understand. It was unlike any other round. I have no chance. I didn’t then, I can’t imagine that I will in the future. It is simply too difficult.”

“I don’t know why you’re saying that. Nothing is too difficult for you.”

Elaara made a noise of frustration.

“I don’t wish to die! Is it worth it? To keep trying? Knowing that I can’t do it, should I keep going forever? Which day will he knock me off into the lava? Will the Tutor pull me out quickly enough? How much do I want it? To win, to be their sapiarch?”

She was sitting up now, waving an arm around as she gesticulated. Evie sat up next to her.

“Only you can know that, Bee.”

“Except that I don’t. When I left, I felt that I didn’t care at all, that they could keep their titles and money and fancy horses and leave me alone. But now I feel guilty. Now I’m doubting my decision to quit. But you’re the one who told me that life is lived out here,” she spread her arms out, “not in here,” she pointed at her head. “And I have different priorities now.”

“You could go back,” said Evie. She tried to sound positive as she said it, though the idea scared her. She did not want Elaara to leave and go back to that miserable arena for weeks and months with the very real risk that she could die any day. Nor did she know quite how to feel about the idea of Elaara becoming a Clan Sapiarch. She had no idea what that would entail, but she felt sure that she, Evenstar, would find no welcome from an old and powerful Altmer family. There was not much of a chance that there would be a place for her at Elaara’s side in that situation.

Elaara turned to her with a sad look.

“Do you think I should? Is that what you want?”

“No! I mean, I don’t know. I do know! But, how can I say so? How can I ask you not to go? To give all that up? I can’t. I have to tell you to go back. To live up to your potential.”

“Here’s the truth,” said Elaara. “As of now, as of right now, I’m not going anywhere without you. High Rock, Maelstrom, breakfast...if you’re not in, I’m not in. So let’s stop talking about it. There’s something else I’d rather do anyway.”

Evie’s heart turned over at this. Elaara wouldn’t go without her. Elaara did not want to be parted. Is this what it felt like? To fall for someone? She smiled at Elaara.

“What, baby? What do you want to do?”

“This,” said Elaara. She pushed the covers down and put her long fingers on Evenstar’s tits. Then she lowered her head and began to kiss them. Evie closed her eyes and ceased completely to think of Maelstrom and the Direnni.

She wrapped her arms around Elaara; the elf was warm now, and so smooth. Elaara kissed her and kissed her. Sometimes she lifted her head and kissed Evie on the mouth, but always she returned to her breasts, lifting them and kissing them, licking and sucking them. Evie lay on her back and let her.

“You have amazing tits,” said Elaara at last, raising her head. “I thought about them so much when we were apart.”

“And I thought about yours,” said Evie. “They’re so big. So fun.” She pushed Elaara back gently and climbed on top of her.

Elaara laughed.

“Fun? I’m not sure about that.”

“I am,” said Evie, and she bent over them. “Extremely fun. I could play all night.”

She did play, lifting and cupping and squeezing Elaara’s breasts. She pressed her face in between them. She kissed them and licked them. But she was aware of a feeling growing in her, a pressure growing in her tummy, and lower. She shifted on top of Elaara, adjusting herself. She could not wait much longer to do what she was longing to do.

She leaned forward, with her hands on either side of Elaara.

“Oh Laara,” she whispered, “you turn me on so much. I want you and want you.”

Elaara looked up at her, her big eyes dreamy, her wide mouth open.

“Have me then,” Elaara told her. “Do it, I want you to.”

“Yes? Oh gods, I want to.”

She started slowly, just lifting herself back so she sat right where she wanted and could feel Elaara under her. Then she began moving. At first, just a little hip tilt, a little nudge. She looked down at the elf, at her narrowed eyes and her flushed cheeks. She wanted to watch Elaara want this. She rocked herself slowly, pressing against Elaara, just loving the warmth of her. After a minute, she lifted herself up and spread Elaara’s legs, lowering herself back down in between them. Now she could see Elaara, open in front of her. Evie’s fingers brushed against her, she was so gorgeous here. Elaara’s pussy was the same color as her nipples, a dark rose. She was warm, and so very wet. Evie let her finger press into Laara just for a second, then she leaned her head down and licked her.

Elaara sighed, and parted her golden thighs even farther. Evie licked at her again, tasting Elaara, her sticky sweetness. She wanted to go further, to bury her face in Elaara and suck all of that wet goodness out, but not now. Now she wanted to rub herself wildly against Elaara, to ride the girl and feel her writhe. She wanted to fuck her. To come with her pussy against her. To feel Elaara come. She wanted to own her.

So she pushed Elaara’s thighs wide and swung herself back on top. She looked down at Elaara, as she did, she wanted to make sure she positioned herself just right. She wanted her whole pussy up against Elaara’s, wet against wet. Then she began to move. She tried to be slow, just rubbing herself against and across Elaara. But they were so slippery, between the two of them, that it was hard to be slow. The sound of it was sexy, so sexy; liquid and rich. She rubbed herself against the elf, looking down, watching her body move across Elaara. She leaned forward, bending over Elaara, her hands on either side, trying to take her time but unable to keep herself from moving gradually faster. Elaara gasped and moaned, rubbing her own self against Evie faster and harder. It was good, so good. She could feel it building in her. This was what she’d been wanting all this time, all her life: the feel of a soft, wet pussy against her. It wasn’t long until Evie couldn’t help herself and she wasn’t sliding or rubbing against Elaara, but drawing back and thrusting forward, really fucking her, as if she were a man. But she wasn’t a man, and this was better than it had ever been with a man. It was hotter, she felt wild and slippery and all she could think of was getting deeper and harder on this fucking sexy bitch. She grabbed Elaara’s leg and raised it, pushing it forward and changing her angle so Elaara was tilted up, her whole pussy open and ready for Evie, who was panting with need. She was going to come, right here, she was trembling with it, with desire, with her arousal, just seeing Laara’s gorgeous, pussy spread wide for her, glistening with wetness. The girl was begging her to keep going and Evie pressed herself up against her hard. She was so warm and wet and slippery and heavenly. Every time she pulled away she couldn’t wait to press against her again and she found herself swinging sideways across Elaara, pressing down atop her, pushing pussy to pussy, finally finding the perfect angle, so that they couldn’t be any closer and she could finally do what she’d been dreaming of doing: riding and riding and riding this girl, so the heat and the feel of her, her wide open pussy and swollen clit against Evie’s own made her feel like she would come into this girl, not just on her. 

When she did come, it felt like an explosion. She ground herself against Elaara, she wanted the elf to feel it in her own body. It went on and on, pulsing through her and making her shake. Elaara reached up and grabbed her by the arms, opening her eyes own wide and thrusting wildly up at her as her own orgasm rocked through her. They came together, trembling and panting till Evenstar lowered herself shakily down and they lay tangled in a sweaty heap, breathing hard, sticky everywhere.

It was a while before either of them spoke.

“So that was sex,” Elaara said with a dreamy tone, unusual for her. “We had sex.”

“We did,” Evie agreed. “I fucked you like crazy,” she clarified.

“You did a good job,” said Elaara. She rolled to face Evie. “I liked it.”

“I did too.”

“I never thought much about sex before. But I guess I assumed I would have it with a man.”

Evie rolled over to face Elaara too. “Do you wish you had?” 

“Not in the least. I can’t imagine it would be better than that.”

“It never was for me, anyway.”

“Truly? That was your best? My first time?”

“Truly. But Bee, you turn me on like nobody has ever done before. Compared with you, I’ve never wanted anyone, ever. It’s a different level with you.”

“You’ve never wanted a girl before me?”

“Noticed a girl? Yes. Wanted one like I want you? No.”

Elaara wiggled closer to her. Evie put her arm around her and drew her close. They lay peacefully as minutes passed. Elaara was warm and solid against her. Her round breasts pushed against Evie’s own, her mouth rested against Evie’s throat.

Evie would never voice the thought, but this part was far more to her than the sex. That they had come together like that, that it had been so good and easy; those things were important too. But Elaara didn’t need to know that Evie had never, never, lay like this with anyone. Instead she just held the girl and tried to let her arms tell Elaara what it had meant.

All at once Evie felt Laara fall asleep. The elf suddenly relaxed and went limp against her. Almost immediately she began snoring softly. Evie held her still. She could have taken her arms from around Elaara, but she didn’t. Instead she tightened her grip and nestled as close to Elaara as she could. As always, the girl looked younger as she slept. Her long, loose hair tumbled about her and her full lips parted softly like a child. A feeling she had never known grew inside Evie: a desire to shelter, to protect this girl. She rested her forehead against Elaara’s and let herself drift towards sleep. Everything was new now. But she did not feel afraid in the least.

Chapter Twenty-One


End file.
